NationStates Jolt Archive

The sun was dim beyond the blank fragile clouds, as the walking sconces of the king's feet flipped slowly around the marble floor. His castle had a distinct feel of welcoming, but beyond the glittery walls and the mounted plagues of honor and power were the toturous chambers of the Halls of Vaught, and the Halls of Torture.

Amongst these chambers, the torture of many people over ancient times grew more and more sadistic, and more pain was implied to those deemed 'false'. However, the nation has never done what it will do today, a great execution, an invitation to the party of death for all of those who wish to see the many ways one can die, or many for that fact.

It began on a complacent day when the King Arborgard was strolling down the Hall of Vaught, when a sniper had his gun pointed at the back of the King's head. If the King had not sat down to heal a certain wound that had once opened afresh, he would have died. However, by moving to the side he saw the tinted laser jabbing at his eye, and he fired his own weapon, hidden in his silver sleeve before the enemy knew.

It seemed the sniper was an assasin hired to kill him, and send Jenrak into a power vacuum of political power. The ones who hired him were the rebels who were thought dead in the provinces of Berngurin. However, that assumption now came to full light, and the punishment is dire.

To ensure that no one rebels against Jenrak anymore, Arborgard issued a scourge amongst the populace, rounding up members of the resistance, and their relatives as well. This reached a number of nearly 3 million people, where they would be sent to the Castle of Arborgard, and where they will be administered many ways to die.


The nation of Jenrak is currently inviting nations to watch this Scourge, as this is the demonstration of Jenrak's opposition to resistance. The execution is located in Haasdra, in the Castle of Arborgard the Twelfth.

OOC: We have cake. :D

Darkness crept above the clouds, when the sun started sleeping. The trees blanketed the starry moon and the nearby smoke fogging from the wastelands made the air even more volatile than normal. However, as the citizens of Jenrak have proved over the countless centuries, they are highly resistant to most basic poisons.

The crowning mountain of Ciranaar's Castle seemed to be a gripping fist in the distance, a shadow amongst others, when the dust storms blurred the vision.

Arborgard stepped out of his car, his crown large and fancifully ornate. His whitish/silver robes did not reflect the light, as the absence of the sun made things difficult. The ground thumped steadily when he walked, his footsteps giving an abhorrent noise. As he walked up to the foremost ramp of his castle, a giant gleaming fortress in the middle of the lake of Vermun in Haasdra, he was greeted by his menacing but subtle friend, the Red Patriarch and cunning general of Zealotry, Nahk Territurari.

"Is all ready?" The King asked, his eyes shifted to his arms, his wrist, and finally, his watch.

"Ready, Lord." Nahk proclaimed, walking amongst the King, his sword strapped upon his broken back.

"Any guests?" Arborgard pondered loudly at the entrance.

"None so far." Nahk responded.

"Very well." The King replied unwaveringly, his voice unchanged. It would be soon. Soon 3 million people will die...3 million different ways.

A soldier stood warily, his suit sweaty and hot, and he clumsily bumped into the painting behind him.

OOC: uh, bump? No one to come to congratulate or condemn?

IC:

The windows were shrieking, the glasses the thumping loudly as the wind blew with great force upon the castle. The tall, mountaineous fortress of Arborgard would feel famished after this mass-execution, his people seeing the formidable length of his sadistic views.
"Soon something should happen." Arborgard proned to Nahk, as the two walked down the main hall, the chandeliers dangling magnificently as the marble floor reflecting their menacing views. He reached towards the side torch, a firelight strung on the end of the wall, the flame billowing.

"Ah," Arborgard hissed, as a tall young man approached the two. "Saerus, what purpose have you come here for?" He asked his loyal commander. Saerus was a medium build young man, who was orphaned by a local crime lord, who valued himself and his victims highly. Because of the attack, Saerus was brought up as a killer, an assasin, and a weapon for hire. However, deep within his murder induced heart he wished to become greater than a mere killer, and fate had proved itself wholesome once again.

It during the time that his current target was Arborgard himself, when the King was yet but a small boy who worked alone on his deceased parent's farms. Children did not have anybody to watch them unless they had relatives willing to take them in, so the loneliness of the boy made him easy to erode.

However, Saerus did not succeed in killing Arborgard, as the would-be King reached Saerus' boss, by an unknown means, and murdered the man, sending the gangs of criminal he controlled into turmoil, as they pledged new allegiance to only themselves. However, things changed once again.

When Saerus learned of his leader's death and the eventual rise of his former target, he knew he was not free, but had traded his black soul for another, and his duty changed dramatically. He got his commander's wish when Arborgard appointed him so, but the brown haired, brown eyed, valorous-looking young man still had a personal vendetta against his king, only because he did not finish his previous job.

OOC: Back to the present (Hah)

The torches lit up Saerus' cuts, his scars on his neck showing years of service within the military. His right arm had a long, tight wrap around it, and inside was the cool sensation of ice dripping through his veins. It was a massive tumor created by failed poison attempt, numbed out.

"The people are ready to become one with their ancestors." The Sage Patriarch murmured, his face a dull, boring blank one, in contrast to Nahk's angry, constantly shifting frown.

"Then we cannot stop at all." Arborgard replied. "Guest or not, the rebels will know that there is a reason I am king. I will make them see it, then they will die." He whispered to himself, as the three of them walked onwards to the massive Halls of Vaught and Torture.

OOC: C'mon, unless I'm very much mistaken, it is more interesting with more than one person. :D

OOC: Uh, bump? Someone join, please? Nobody? :(

IC:

The roaring of the Halls pierced the ears of the King, as the people who weren't rebels began to sit down, their eyes glimpsing at the massive throne of Arborgard now and then to meet the eyes of king, their minds blank and their body frozen. They wanted to watch the spies, the rebels, the countless streams of murderers die before their innocent eyes. To them, it was like a feast of the mind, a gift of the king, and yet as frightful as it would be, it would a grand party, a great party where the people would rejoice at each end, and stand up and cloud the views of others, to see death claim them.

Arborgard reached the ends of the creepy halls of Vaught, the Halls of Torture amongst them to the left, and the main hall once again to their right. Instead of going either way, Arborgard went straight to the front, where the roaring ensued, and the people wanted blood. Nighttime fell quickly in this place, and the twinkling lights of Haasdra showed a line of fire amongst the stars. The King, along with devious Nahk and the noble yet bloodthirsty Saerus sat down into their according chairs, their eyes ready for a feast of entertainment.

It was a at a quick speed, but before they could see the heretics, the rebels, the ones who would betray their oaths and their loyalty to him, the speech had to begin. Amongst the massive open collosseum, the gripping spiked pillars of the central platform hid a bevy of unearthly spikes, some shriveled and others, more gruesome. Others were so blood swayed they were rusty, and others had a purple tint to them, showing their malignent poisonous touch. This night would be amusing indeed. It was a shame no nation would see this atrocious fun, but it did not matter. It was a job, no other. To have it any other way would lessen the value, Arborgard thought.

"Is there anyone else coming to the grand execution?" He whispered into Nahk's ear. Nahk, sitting beside him to the left and Ashili to the right, whispered back, "None." His ears twitching violently, showing the sign that he was thinking. He thought alot these days.

"Well then," Arborgard speeched, his wine sloshing about in his glass cup. "There would be much to miss. The first event is about to begin." Smiling wickedly, there was a certain sense in the air, and how could there not be? Three million people are about to die in one entertaining night.

OOC: Another bump, another day.

OOC: might as well make this bump worth something...

IC:

"All kneel and bow before your ruler, the great Arborgard!" A nearby sleek soldier yelled into the eloquent microphone, the balcony worth of people who have come to see the gruesome entertainment bowing down onto their pain ached backs, their eyes sweating with blood, sweat and tears, as most have had their days torn away from them, their freedoms, much like the dishonorable rebels in front of them, stripped from their bleak, empty souls.
After a brief interval of standing to the sitting king, the people sat down once again in complete unison, as a single minded entity, eagerly awaiting the furious carnage.

"Send out the Garg-Hounds." Arborgard whispered to his nearby commander, who immediately yelled, "The Garg-Hounds!"

It was a mystery to most of what the Garg-Hounds were, but it was obvious when they arrived from the bleak cages of the inner domes that they did not represent a subtle, or even normal animal. They had a long silvery tail, which flashed and glittered to show signs to others, and their red eyes shifted to blue when they felt passive or joyful. Scars of each Hound spoke of forbidden torture and experimentation, but their long massive fangs compensated for that. Overall, they were like dogs, but the basic features of a dog was cruelly misshappened and deformed in these pitiful creatures, their eyes blind to all but the smell of blood, and the taste of flesh.

"I want 300 prisoners out." Arborgard whispered again, and the commander repeated.

Iron gates were lifted, and 300 sad, clean but forlorn faces stepped into the jagged arena, where the menacing Garg-Hounds smelled new prey. The first to go to their feastive hunger were the children, who tried to run from the hounds immediately to the gates, but were devoured audacitally. Now it was beginning to be entertaining.

OOC: Just so you know, this is completely open

OOC: C'mon! Bump?

"Good." The content face of the king leered down from his passive throne, watching blood smear everywhere when the people were frightened. Gasps and screams lurched from every direction of the arena, and onlookers fainted at the sight of torn body parts, some grimacing menacingly. Now and then, an onlooker shook his or her threatening fist at the king, or the beasts themselves.
"They are effective, but I want something more..."He glanced at the Garg-Hounds, "...bloodthirsty."
"Very well." A familiar voice responded into his ear, followed by a loud "Release the Overseers!" As the men shrieked a quiet tone of a frightened soul.
Iron gates began to lift up once again, and a torturous roar filled the damp, sandy arena air. Something big was coming through the rusty iron gates, but what it was would be a mystery.

[OOC: Awww, but I was gonna join. I wanna see people die :D]

OOC: Oh, okay. I'll RP it again later. Fine, it won't die. At least someone responded. :)

((I think that no one cared... this kinda thing happens regularly on NS))

((I think that no one cared... this kinda thing happens regularly on NS))

OOC: Good point. Anyhow, better get back to the Rpness. Despite this, I like RPing this kind of situation, but it would be better if someone responded. I'm not waiting for a bunch of people. One person would even be good enough for me. You know what I mean?

IC:

"What is this?" The smiling Arborgard asked the subtle Nahk, his eyes looking carefully at the rumbling iron gates, the pits filling with heavy dust. Tortured roars filled the cavernous pits, and the dark emanating shadows revealed a massive slithering body.
"Is this...what I think it is?" Arborgard excitedly asked his friend Nahk.
"Happy Birthday." Nahk answered back, smiling with what was left of his flesh, as the massive slithering object spewed forth from the pit, it's malevolent scales ripping up the ground.
The monster, a massive and gruesomely deformed Andaconda, encircled the feasting Garg-Hounds, and the frightened populace within the rink. Chaos ensued, as people above screamed and shuddered to see what happened next. It was a simple, blinding move.

A massive hole was punched into the center of the arena, as the Garg-Hounds ignored the people screaming around, heeling and baring their large blood tipped fangs at the slitted eyes of the snake. It flicked its tongue menacingly, the eyes focusing on the next prey.

Foolishly, a hound leapt up at the beast, and began attempting to hack its way towards the softer underbelly of the snake, but a levy of bronze-gold spikes protruded instantly from the back of snake, impaling the Garg-Hound, its blue blood shimmering around the exploded area, the sand a muddy blue. "This is interesting." Arborgard happily replied, watching the chaotic gruesome acts before him. It was a long night, indeed.