"Recently today, I saw that many unsanctioned and unwanted multiple religious branches have been hiding out in the quietness of this great nation." Arborgard yelled from his tower, his voice echoed like a million gunshots reverbated into the starry midnight and frigid air. The cold icicles of hatred strung from his lips, as he continued on his ravaged angry yell of portent.
"I shalt now have this heresy, this unbelievable advance of enemy religions to invade our theocracy!" He spewed forth anger, and spit lunged form his mouth out into the air.
"Today, I am announcing, the Punishment Caste, the Lehtria, the ones who will track these obtruse enemies, and cripple their minds and bodies. I shall have them follow our rites and our beliefs once more, not this rabble of despicable behaviour. I shalt murder all if they do not return to our ways." He spoke again, with a signal of totality in his voice, like if the clouds would be the end of his speech and throng forth many sabers of fortitude to those who listened to his will. He turned around and went back in to his castle, and with a flashing flare, came a signal.
A large, powerful rocket flew up into the sky, and another followed it's path. This rocket was long and slender, and it shattered in the quiet atmospheric attitude of the night quite loudly, with the gong of the loud soudns they made when they exploded, rumble in the fog.
A schism of light flashed forth, and the other rocket that followed flashed much more powerful, sending a ray of light flashing forwards into a large radius. Many people could see this from afar, and this was the declaration of a caste, and the death of many. These flash rockets symbolized the explosion of foreign religions into Jenrak, and their quick death to soon follow. It would begin soon, and it would begin tonight.
"You know what awaits you." Arborgard spoke to Mathrak, the leader of this new caste, as the soldier bowed imperiously before his master, and headed out of his chambers into the great hall; his armor clunked and clang loudly and he mumbled unnaturally strong under his breath.
"Let them die, all of them."
Gnufasur
09-06-2005, 00:09
((OOC: *Quickly runs up, and slaps a yellow Post-It note on the thread. The note reads, in big bold letters, TAG.*
I might toss in a Merc or two for the coming International Peace Keeping Operations that's sure to follow. :D))
Mikosolf Corporation
09-06-2005, 00:12
((OOC: *Quickly runs up, and slaps a yellow Post-It note on the thread. The note reads, in big bold letters, TAG.*
I might toss in a Merc or two for the coming International Peace Keeping Operations that's sure to follow. ))
OOC: See, this is why you keep your death/torture camps a seceret.
OOC: k. Haven't been on in a while, but meh. I'll RP more tommorrow, since this introduction was a bit bad.
The Transylvania
09-06-2005, 21:19
OOC: I'm going to tag this because I like your writing.
OOC: THanks. That's really boosting my lack of moral ;)
IC:
Burrinban Rd, Haasdra
The stars radiated with cold flames of ill portent, and cracking roads daized under the blatant sky. The creeping of the Lehtria soldiers along the frozen rooftops were quiet like a swift shade, and they leaped and glided with ease from building to building. Another jump, and another leap, and they continued their appropriate movements.
"Move down the lane." The one in the lead spoke softly, and the ones behind obeyed willingly. They cast themselves aside to the edge of the building, and they placed long silky black masks over their faces. They covered all emotions they could show, and with the final plunge of the creation of their intentions, they slipped down into the quiet haunting alley and slided gracefully into the nearby steam vents. Exhaust fumes ravaged their eyes, and they had to cover their ears to prevent the incessant fog from growing moss into their eardrums.
A click from above was heard, and another soft whistle; it was not a swift, queit thing, but a strong and steady pitch, that slowly rose up to a great crescent of noise. The squad followed, and their eyes shifted to the nearby window, cracked and malice of damage with a bronze slippery handle. Tipping his slim, lanky fingers into the socket of the handle, and pulling carefully, he etched his way around the knob, loosening the window open more and more, with the seconds used to open seeming infinite. Finally, a spring lashed, and his long awaited sound of opening clicked nicely into place.
"Enter the bait." The soldier told his friend, as he nodded appreciatively and squeezed into the window silt. "Quiet." He whispered with a faint voice of discretion, as the pair entered the darkness of the basement.
Crosses and statues of Jesus Christ were strewn along the ends, along with the many pearl-like marble ends of many crosses, and a small black bible laid encrested in gold amongst them all. Spitting quietly on the bible, the soldier grabbed the manuscript copies and read them, flipping erratically in their archival senses. Then, in a flashing display of allegiance to his religion, the other soldier set forth a blaze of all the monuments and idolistic statues and objects.
"Good work, Nass." The solider to his friend, but a clanging from upstairs came rumbling down, and the owner of such artifacts, a billowed old man with a long rusty beard, green slippers and flimsy skin, talked in his balded anger towards them.
"What have you done?" He yelled loudly. "Sacrilieges! I'm going to call the police on you...you vandals!" He began to stubb his way upstairs, but was frequently stopped.
"Stop? Never." The soldier pulled out a long powered handgun, and he squeezed off a nice dose of needles into the old man's neck, his eyes going dull and his face drooping even more than thought possible. In a glance, the man seemed to have melted, his face no longer strong enough to carry the incessant weight of his skin, and his mouth drooled onto his lips and his breath a weak, faint skimp. The soldiers laughed at their victim's unconscious form.
"This is Nass. The heretic is contained and ready for transfer." The soldier spoke confidently into the comm., his face a gleam with joy as he lashed out his sword, flung it about, and shattered the remains of the bible into a thousand pieces.
Neheth, Ssessloth
"I spoke for us all, that we should not worry about it." He spoked into his comm, as the person spoke back with loud joyous laughter.
"You intend to destroy them?" The person spoke to him.
"No, I intend to kill them, like what the leader told us." The captain spoke into the comm, his face a light with smiles as he aimed carefully into his scope.
"You know that we can't do anything. You know what will happen, Siron."
"I know; Mathrak will have my head."
"Yeah, so don't do anything foolish or it'll be my head as well."
"Why your head?"
"Cause you're the only competent one in my squad as of now. Unless Mathrak gives me someone who is better than you at sniping, I'll have to hold on to your services as long as possible."
"You won't have me for long."
"Why's that?"
"Cause Lord Nahk's going to promote me to Patriarch, soon enough. I know it, cause of my kills."
"Your orders are to take this guy alive, so we can convert them. You may get promoted to Patriarch if you kill someone else."
"You're right. Gotta go, he's here." He pulled away his scope, and rubbed his eyes, and once more, he placed his eye socket into the scope. The green night vision ebbed and waved, but he knew what was where fairly well enough. He waited, and his eyes watched the movement of the heretic priest. A car pulled up, a strong sleek car, with much shining chrome and glistening wheels.
He shook his head, and aimed more carefully as the car pulled into the edge of the driveway, and the man spoke carefully, before exiting the safety of his vehicle.
With a plunge of his finger, a dart shot forwards and slashed its way into hsi neck, knocking the man out coldly. Gotcha, thought the sniper.
Bump. Got a really long and funky one underway...;)