Farmina
09-07-2005, 03:43
In caves north-east of Aston, death continued to pursue the Conservatives. “Blast these infernal Moralists,” muttered Gregory Vanstone, “They have us by the balls and by God they aren’t letting go.”
Peter Greel looked over at the high ranking Conservative, shocked at his poor language, and at a time when they were so close to being with God, “Cursing won’t help us Mr Vanstone.”
“I doubt anything will,” said Vanstone, an inherent pessimist.
Greel looked away. The plan was to reach the town of Kraft tomorrow. He only hoped there would be enough room for the hundred of so in the band of refugees: men, women and children all doomed to share fates. Through out the warren of caves in the rock face, Greel had seen many things: fear, hatred, injured and the dead; but he had not seen hoped. How would the wandering bands escape the wrath of the entire Farminan military?
“Scouting party,” yelled someone off to Greel’s left, “There is a military scouting party coming right this way.”
Vanstone’s eyes flicked over to Greel, before flicking over to the caves entrance, “Take up defensive positions.”
Imperial Guard, better known as White Guard due to their once white uniforms, grabbed their weapons with great speed and raced to the temporary cover that had been prepared. Armed conservatives also raced forward, but they took longer, inexperienced and unprofessional.
Then there was silence, Greel and Vanstone, both had their hands on their pistols, ready but unwilling to form a second line of defense. It was altogether unnecessary. After several minutes silence, there was a sudden volley of shots, and a series of surprised screams, more shots, and more screams. Within ten seconds the deathly silence was returned.
Greel quickly moved to the front of the cave, as he was younger, lighter and faster than Vanstone, “Have we got wounded?”
One of the White Guard looked up at him, “Not here, but I heard a scream further up.”
“Have it dealt with, and make sure those scum are dead, we need their bodies,” said Greel, as though calm and relaxed.
Greel paced back to Vanstone, “We seem to have wounded, but they could be dead.”
“Bah,” said Vanstone, “We will have to move at first light.”
“I suggest we go earlier,” said Greel, “We move as soon as darkness hits.”
“Your mad,” said Vanstone, “We have been walking all day, we can’t walk through the night as well.”
“The military may be right on top of us,” said Greel, “If we move during the day, the military will catch up to us, and not only that, in the open and the light. If we stay here we will surely be butchered.”
Vanstone was clearly drenched, being so large, after walking all day, under the harsh Farminan sun was no doubt the cause, “Blah, I hate it when others are right. Have this place booby trapped, with the bodies as bait. I’m going to give a stirring speech.”
“As you wish,” said Peter Greel, as humbly as he could.
“Mr Greel,” said a White Guard, with the insignia of a sergeant on his arm, “The soldiers had this.”
Greel knew exactly what it was, “Long wave radio. Give me that, and go and booby trap these caves, we need to slow the military down.”
The sergeant handed over the radio and began barking out orders.
Greel picked up the rectangular box shaped device and proceeded outside, into the harsh desert. He tweaked the radio for a few moments before beginning, “There has been a massacre at Aston. There are survivors, Conservatives fleeing the military. We are currently at Honeycomb Rock. Can anyone here me?”
Greel listened, he could hear static, but there were other voices, ever so faint. He repeated his message, again he heard the radio pick up transmissions; then just static. Greel knew what this meant, a jamming device. “We have to go know,” he yelled up into the unorganized rabble of the caves, as White Guard cleared it of Conservatives and filled it with traps.
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“Glad you could make it so quickly, Emperor,” sniped Chief Justice Richard Frost.
“Well I am a very busy man,” responded Tobias Grey, “And if you don’t make your point quickly I shall leave again.”
Tobias Grey flicked his eyes across the panel of five Grand Court judges, Richard Frost sitting dead centre, under the official copy of the Farminan Constitution. Each of the judges was in their long black silk gowns, contrasted to Tobias Grey’s white suit, with black shirt and red tie.
“Events have come to our attention and the decision we have reached is unanimous,” began the Chief Justice.
“Get on with it,” snarled Tobias Grey.
“We granted you the powers of the Emperor for the period of the true Emperor’s incapacity. Now it has come to our attention that the Emperor is more than capable of all getting all the way to Dumpsterdam while being drugged and your prisoner,” continued Richard Frost.
“Is this going somewhere?” asked the acting Emperor.
“If there is no Emperor, there can be no acting Emperor. But this is not our most disturbing conclusion, we have reason to believe you orchestrated entrapment that resulted in the Conservative Block being labeled insurgent falsely. If this is true, then the events at Aston amount to mass murder with the blood entirely at your feet,” said Frost.
“And your conclusion?” asked Tobias Grey.
“You must abdicate your power to the court, we shall decide a course of action from there,” said Richard Frost, “You need to sign the form in front of you.”
“As you wish,” smiled Grey, dangerously politely, pulling out his pen and squiggling on the page.
A guard picked up the document and brought it up the bench, where the judges examined it in turn. “This is too easy,” muttered the judge on the far left.
“Correct,” said Grey, still smiling, but now a smile that had a haunting nature to it, “Since I have resigned, as Emperor, I shall appoint myself President, and this court is now permanently in recess.”
“You can’t,” warned the Chief Judge.
“Hear that,” said Grey, refering to a faint and distant noise, “That is the sound of gunfire, Moralist enforcers are storming this building, with an arrest warrant, for the five judges of the Grand Court.”
“Seize him,” yelled Richard Frost, furious and fearful in the same expression.
One of the Grand Court guards leveled his rifle at the self appointed president. The other guard however, was of a different loyalty, opening fire on the first guard.
“Traitor,” hissed one of the judges, the others were to pale with fear to react.
It was then that the Moralist opened fire; more raced in adding the blaze of fires. The judges crumpled one by one; the court, the constitution itself, riddled with bullets and covered blood.
OOC: This occurs minutes before Tobias Grey declares Farmina a Democratic Republic. Also I realize the post isn’t a great one.
Peter Greel looked over at the high ranking Conservative, shocked at his poor language, and at a time when they were so close to being with God, “Cursing won’t help us Mr Vanstone.”
“I doubt anything will,” said Vanstone, an inherent pessimist.
Greel looked away. The plan was to reach the town of Kraft tomorrow. He only hoped there would be enough room for the hundred of so in the band of refugees: men, women and children all doomed to share fates. Through out the warren of caves in the rock face, Greel had seen many things: fear, hatred, injured and the dead; but he had not seen hoped. How would the wandering bands escape the wrath of the entire Farminan military?
“Scouting party,” yelled someone off to Greel’s left, “There is a military scouting party coming right this way.”
Vanstone’s eyes flicked over to Greel, before flicking over to the caves entrance, “Take up defensive positions.”
Imperial Guard, better known as White Guard due to their once white uniforms, grabbed their weapons with great speed and raced to the temporary cover that had been prepared. Armed conservatives also raced forward, but they took longer, inexperienced and unprofessional.
Then there was silence, Greel and Vanstone, both had their hands on their pistols, ready but unwilling to form a second line of defense. It was altogether unnecessary. After several minutes silence, there was a sudden volley of shots, and a series of surprised screams, more shots, and more screams. Within ten seconds the deathly silence was returned.
Greel quickly moved to the front of the cave, as he was younger, lighter and faster than Vanstone, “Have we got wounded?”
One of the White Guard looked up at him, “Not here, but I heard a scream further up.”
“Have it dealt with, and make sure those scum are dead, we need their bodies,” said Greel, as though calm and relaxed.
Greel paced back to Vanstone, “We seem to have wounded, but they could be dead.”
“Bah,” said Vanstone, “We will have to move at first light.”
“I suggest we go earlier,” said Greel, “We move as soon as darkness hits.”
“Your mad,” said Vanstone, “We have been walking all day, we can’t walk through the night as well.”
“The military may be right on top of us,” said Greel, “If we move during the day, the military will catch up to us, and not only that, in the open and the light. If we stay here we will surely be butchered.”
Vanstone was clearly drenched, being so large, after walking all day, under the harsh Farminan sun was no doubt the cause, “Blah, I hate it when others are right. Have this place booby trapped, with the bodies as bait. I’m going to give a stirring speech.”
“As you wish,” said Peter Greel, as humbly as he could.
“Mr Greel,” said a White Guard, with the insignia of a sergeant on his arm, “The soldiers had this.”
Greel knew exactly what it was, “Long wave radio. Give me that, and go and booby trap these caves, we need to slow the military down.”
The sergeant handed over the radio and began barking out orders.
Greel picked up the rectangular box shaped device and proceeded outside, into the harsh desert. He tweaked the radio for a few moments before beginning, “There has been a massacre at Aston. There are survivors, Conservatives fleeing the military. We are currently at Honeycomb Rock. Can anyone here me?”
Greel listened, he could hear static, but there were other voices, ever so faint. He repeated his message, again he heard the radio pick up transmissions; then just static. Greel knew what this meant, a jamming device. “We have to go know,” he yelled up into the unorganized rabble of the caves, as White Guard cleared it of Conservatives and filled it with traps.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Glad you could make it so quickly, Emperor,” sniped Chief Justice Richard Frost.
“Well I am a very busy man,” responded Tobias Grey, “And if you don’t make your point quickly I shall leave again.”
Tobias Grey flicked his eyes across the panel of five Grand Court judges, Richard Frost sitting dead centre, under the official copy of the Farminan Constitution. Each of the judges was in their long black silk gowns, contrasted to Tobias Grey’s white suit, with black shirt and red tie.
“Events have come to our attention and the decision we have reached is unanimous,” began the Chief Justice.
“Get on with it,” snarled Tobias Grey.
“We granted you the powers of the Emperor for the period of the true Emperor’s incapacity. Now it has come to our attention that the Emperor is more than capable of all getting all the way to Dumpsterdam while being drugged and your prisoner,” continued Richard Frost.
“Is this going somewhere?” asked the acting Emperor.
“If there is no Emperor, there can be no acting Emperor. But this is not our most disturbing conclusion, we have reason to believe you orchestrated entrapment that resulted in the Conservative Block being labeled insurgent falsely. If this is true, then the events at Aston amount to mass murder with the blood entirely at your feet,” said Frost.
“And your conclusion?” asked Tobias Grey.
“You must abdicate your power to the court, we shall decide a course of action from there,” said Richard Frost, “You need to sign the form in front of you.”
“As you wish,” smiled Grey, dangerously politely, pulling out his pen and squiggling on the page.
A guard picked up the document and brought it up the bench, where the judges examined it in turn. “This is too easy,” muttered the judge on the far left.
“Correct,” said Grey, still smiling, but now a smile that had a haunting nature to it, “Since I have resigned, as Emperor, I shall appoint myself President, and this court is now permanently in recess.”
“You can’t,” warned the Chief Judge.
“Hear that,” said Grey, refering to a faint and distant noise, “That is the sound of gunfire, Moralist enforcers are storming this building, with an arrest warrant, for the five judges of the Grand Court.”
“Seize him,” yelled Richard Frost, furious and fearful in the same expression.
One of the Grand Court guards leveled his rifle at the self appointed president. The other guard however, was of a different loyalty, opening fire on the first guard.
“Traitor,” hissed one of the judges, the others were to pale with fear to react.
It was then that the Moralist opened fire; more raced in adding the blaze of fires. The judges crumpled one by one; the court, the constitution itself, riddled with bullets and covered blood.
OOC: This occurs minutes before Tobias Grey declares Farmina a Democratic Republic. Also I realize the post isn’t a great one.