The Macabees
02-06-2005, 03:13
[Fedala, Second Empire of the Golden Throne]
"Achtung!" The master sergeant's shrill voice pierced through the ears of the non-officers, tightly arranged in formation in front of their superior officers, eyes staring straight ahead. One could be fooled, that neither felt fear, however, their shaking hands, minutely moving back and forth, betrayed any such notion. They were human, and who could blame them? They had gone though three years of training, after being scrapped up from the Empire's lowiest locations, including maximum security prisons, work camps and some of the most wanted street gangs. They were thugs, murderers, punks, and they were the perfect men for the job - all twenty-six thousand of them.
Beyond them, where no one except those who specifically knew, looked Emperor of the Golden Throne, Jonach I, sitting in his white military suit, his left breast arranged with dozens of dangling medals and perhaps over a hundred multi-colored ribbons, marking his success through the years in the old Macabee Army during the Great Civil War. His head was held high, and for his age of sixty-two, his neck showed strength that one could not see in a athlete of twenty. It was obvious that his health remained strong. Beside his velvet throne was yet another throne, albeit smaller, and it sat, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in the world - Queen of the Golden Throne. The two held hands, but nonetheless, Jonach's attention remained on the twenty-six thousand men arrayed in front of him. It was the largest congregation of armed men in front of the Emperor in all of the Second Empire's twenty or so years of history.
Emperor Jonach I turned his head, his gaze settling upon the pretty face of his queen, and he sat there looking at her. He was not to blame, for many men had died looking at her, falling victim to his jealousy. He then opened his mouth and began to talk softly to her,"Hypolita, my most glorious dream is opening before my eyes. You shall see nothing like this again. The Empire will soon become a true empire, and I a true emperor. Of course, and you, my lady, a true empress."
She stared on, towards the arrayed men, and did nothing but smile. Yet her smile was so serene, so delicate, so beautiful. Her face showed no aging. Indeed, she seemed as if she was only thirty or in her late twenties. Her hair was elegantly placed in an ancient Favian custom, which had become quite the fashion in the Second Empire. She then turned to meet the eyes of her husband, and she let out a shy laugh, and responded,"You now, darling, that I do not like politics much. I just like to watch you, and your toys, play."
Jonach nodded and turned back his attention towards the men. His smile faded, and his rock hard face, showing no emotion, returned. His left hand settled on the arm of his chair, while his right hand remained tightly woven around that of his wife.
In the area of congregation, a man of high rank began to make his way towards a tall podium, arrayed in front of the proud ranks of men below and beyond. It would be difficult to reach all twenty-six thousand men, but through modern mechanics, and especially audio technology, it would be possible, indeed. He walked up the red carpet, watching his step as he continued up the stairs. Finally, his arms met with the podium and he sighed away from the microphone. Then, suddenly, he lifted his right arm in a stiff arm salute and then abruptly turned it into a tight fist, and brought it against his left breast, in the usual military and political salute of the Empire. The men beyond him did the same and then cheered, yelling out,"Lang lebend der Kaiser!"
The man, Field Marshall Albrect von Seelow, gazed upon the ground and gave a loud,"Empfang!" He then continued as planned,"You have been specifically chosen for a special task. As you were briefed during your final days of your training, your are to form the task forces of the new Kaiserliche Sicherheitsbehörde. It is to say, you are the future of this empire, you are the future of our people, you are our pride and joy. Indeed, you are to become the new Gestapo, albeit without the National Socialist taint. Instead, you are to become the golden childs of the Empire, the beauty and the example of our way of life. You are to become the new Praetorian Guard."
He let the new cheer, which had erupted, settle down before he continued,"The Emperor, Jonach I, proudly gazes upon you, knowing that his future is on your shoulders. You are his children, you are his soldiers, do not let him down!"
He let that sink in, and then went on,"You ask us, why? Weigar, the final conquest of our Emperor, when he was a soldier for the traitorous king of The Macabees, is yet full with Communist, Socialist and Democratic Liberals. Indeed, they have formed syndicates to oppose the rule of the Empire, and that is the stamp of traitors! We cannot let that be. Consequently, it is your job to make sure that these rebels are not able to damage the system, and are not able to topple the utopia our emperor worked so hard to create. The beauty, the gradiousity, the disirability shall not fall! You are to form the support, the columns, of this nation! You are the nation, you are the state! Sie sind die Nation, sind Sie der Staat!"
The crowd again let out a wild howl, and this time they did not stop cheering. von Seelow completed the Imperial salute at least five times before he bowed and walked off stage. Before he left he flashed a look at the Emperor, and then continued down, hoping not to give away the position of Jonach.
Finally, Jonach I had been able to begin implanting the roots of the Second Empire of the Golden Throne. For the past twenty years, during the military build-up of his Empire, he had always feared the rebellion of Weigar, who had promised him peace. Finally, he could ensure that the liberals who infested that land could not rise against him. Finally, his Gestapo was in place, and finally, his power was forever engraved. His son, and his son's son, would be able to rule this Empire without internal hostilities, and it could last the three thousand years the First Empire had lasted, or if God was willing, longer.
It was rather scary. Dressed in grey field uniforms they resembled the Germans of old, during the Second World War, and armed with perhaps some of the most advance assault rifles and other small arms in the world they were just as dangerous as normal infantry units of the military. The only exception was that their new found training and weapons would not be used on a distant battlefield. Instead, they would be turned on their own people, to plant the seeds of a Catalan dominion of the Empire for as long as anybody would know.
In the distant room, overlooking the cheering crowd, which was now beginning to leave in fair order, under the guidance of sergeants and the like, Jonach I smiled once again, and turned to Hypolita and said,"Excuse me dear Hypolita."
He elevated himself from his throne and walked over to a phone on his desk, marked secure. Without punching a number the phone connected him with another line and he simply said,"Order a full battalion towards Weigar. I want this to end before it begins."
The only response from the other line was,"Understood, your majesty."
[OOC Thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=8996256).]
"Achtung!" The master sergeant's shrill voice pierced through the ears of the non-officers, tightly arranged in formation in front of their superior officers, eyes staring straight ahead. One could be fooled, that neither felt fear, however, their shaking hands, minutely moving back and forth, betrayed any such notion. They were human, and who could blame them? They had gone though three years of training, after being scrapped up from the Empire's lowiest locations, including maximum security prisons, work camps and some of the most wanted street gangs. They were thugs, murderers, punks, and they were the perfect men for the job - all twenty-six thousand of them.
Beyond them, where no one except those who specifically knew, looked Emperor of the Golden Throne, Jonach I, sitting in his white military suit, his left breast arranged with dozens of dangling medals and perhaps over a hundred multi-colored ribbons, marking his success through the years in the old Macabee Army during the Great Civil War. His head was held high, and for his age of sixty-two, his neck showed strength that one could not see in a athlete of twenty. It was obvious that his health remained strong. Beside his velvet throne was yet another throne, albeit smaller, and it sat, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in the world - Queen of the Golden Throne. The two held hands, but nonetheless, Jonach's attention remained on the twenty-six thousand men arrayed in front of him. It was the largest congregation of armed men in front of the Emperor in all of the Second Empire's twenty or so years of history.
Emperor Jonach I turned his head, his gaze settling upon the pretty face of his queen, and he sat there looking at her. He was not to blame, for many men had died looking at her, falling victim to his jealousy. He then opened his mouth and began to talk softly to her,"Hypolita, my most glorious dream is opening before my eyes. You shall see nothing like this again. The Empire will soon become a true empire, and I a true emperor. Of course, and you, my lady, a true empress."
She stared on, towards the arrayed men, and did nothing but smile. Yet her smile was so serene, so delicate, so beautiful. Her face showed no aging. Indeed, she seemed as if she was only thirty or in her late twenties. Her hair was elegantly placed in an ancient Favian custom, which had become quite the fashion in the Second Empire. She then turned to meet the eyes of her husband, and she let out a shy laugh, and responded,"You now, darling, that I do not like politics much. I just like to watch you, and your toys, play."
Jonach nodded and turned back his attention towards the men. His smile faded, and his rock hard face, showing no emotion, returned. His left hand settled on the arm of his chair, while his right hand remained tightly woven around that of his wife.
In the area of congregation, a man of high rank began to make his way towards a tall podium, arrayed in front of the proud ranks of men below and beyond. It would be difficult to reach all twenty-six thousand men, but through modern mechanics, and especially audio technology, it would be possible, indeed. He walked up the red carpet, watching his step as he continued up the stairs. Finally, his arms met with the podium and he sighed away from the microphone. Then, suddenly, he lifted his right arm in a stiff arm salute and then abruptly turned it into a tight fist, and brought it against his left breast, in the usual military and political salute of the Empire. The men beyond him did the same and then cheered, yelling out,"Lang lebend der Kaiser!"
The man, Field Marshall Albrect von Seelow, gazed upon the ground and gave a loud,"Empfang!" He then continued as planned,"You have been specifically chosen for a special task. As you were briefed during your final days of your training, your are to form the task forces of the new Kaiserliche Sicherheitsbehörde. It is to say, you are the future of this empire, you are the future of our people, you are our pride and joy. Indeed, you are to become the new Gestapo, albeit without the National Socialist taint. Instead, you are to become the golden childs of the Empire, the beauty and the example of our way of life. You are to become the new Praetorian Guard."
He let the new cheer, which had erupted, settle down before he continued,"The Emperor, Jonach I, proudly gazes upon you, knowing that his future is on your shoulders. You are his children, you are his soldiers, do not let him down!"
He let that sink in, and then went on,"You ask us, why? Weigar, the final conquest of our Emperor, when he was a soldier for the traitorous king of The Macabees, is yet full with Communist, Socialist and Democratic Liberals. Indeed, they have formed syndicates to oppose the rule of the Empire, and that is the stamp of traitors! We cannot let that be. Consequently, it is your job to make sure that these rebels are not able to damage the system, and are not able to topple the utopia our emperor worked so hard to create. The beauty, the gradiousity, the disirability shall not fall! You are to form the support, the columns, of this nation! You are the nation, you are the state! Sie sind die Nation, sind Sie der Staat!"
The crowd again let out a wild howl, and this time they did not stop cheering. von Seelow completed the Imperial salute at least five times before he bowed and walked off stage. Before he left he flashed a look at the Emperor, and then continued down, hoping not to give away the position of Jonach.
Finally, Jonach I had been able to begin implanting the roots of the Second Empire of the Golden Throne. For the past twenty years, during the military build-up of his Empire, he had always feared the rebellion of Weigar, who had promised him peace. Finally, he could ensure that the liberals who infested that land could not rise against him. Finally, his Gestapo was in place, and finally, his power was forever engraved. His son, and his son's son, would be able to rule this Empire without internal hostilities, and it could last the three thousand years the First Empire had lasted, or if God was willing, longer.
It was rather scary. Dressed in grey field uniforms they resembled the Germans of old, during the Second World War, and armed with perhaps some of the most advance assault rifles and other small arms in the world they were just as dangerous as normal infantry units of the military. The only exception was that their new found training and weapons would not be used on a distant battlefield. Instead, they would be turned on their own people, to plant the seeds of a Catalan dominion of the Empire for as long as anybody would know.
In the distant room, overlooking the cheering crowd, which was now beginning to leave in fair order, under the guidance of sergeants and the like, Jonach I smiled once again, and turned to Hypolita and said,"Excuse me dear Hypolita."
He elevated himself from his throne and walked over to a phone on his desk, marked secure. Without punching a number the phone connected him with another line and he simply said,"Order a full battalion towards Weigar. I want this to end before it begins."
The only response from the other line was,"Understood, your majesty."
[OOC Thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=8996256).]