NationStates Jolt Archive

"The drunkards... The catholics..."

"We're at a crossroads, Conor."

And fields of amber grain, the sun setting on the horizon in an outcast dust emblazoning the entirety of the twilight sky with that puckering blood color washed those fields in a stark light, the pallid faces of hundreds of thousands seemingly beyond strained and beyond exhaustion, beyond life, their corpses a horrible menagerie abstract waxing figure in that near vertical and near bloody light.

"We've the advantage now. We no longer have to fear."

"Says the boy raised in the belfry."

Conor, dark. Sorrowful features with dark motives. He looked over to Shannon. Someone to linger on, Shannon. That queer City of ruin had been taken easily. They didn't want it.

It was so curious, this land. This was a land of people saying one thing, doing another, and then going back on what they've done for the sake of doing things. As long as these people were moving, they were seemingly happy. This was a land of glory, that horrible self gratification, that horrible thing of delusions where they claim they sit beside the Almighty yet fall tragically short of the rats. So curious, how this land came to be. The victors retained every city's name, every road's path, and every archaic manifestations profile through countless bizarre transformations. And of course, there was no reasoning. No reasoning at all. Sloth, possibly, but not likely. Curious, though, how that city was still the city it was ages ago.

Connor turned from the battlements, Shannon remained, staring over those fields on the outskirts of that archaic, horrible, queer City of ruin.

"It's in our interests to move."

"Agreed..."

"The General says there isn't that much of a resistance."

"What's there to resist?"

"That's what I asked the General. He said that some people are still loyal to whoever held this land first. He says they still think their land exists. And it's curious, and I don't believe it. Not even our parents remember who held this land. This is no man's land."

"Some people are just odd."

Finely oiled machines lumbered by on both sides, the ground rumbling, the sky dusty and thick. Wind picked up, blowing a gust of dust into Connor's face. He winced a little and reached for Shannon. He took her hand and kept moving.

"The next City is up ahead..."

"I don't want to walk anymore, we've been walking for ages."

The sky was alight. For only a moment. Then it was dull as dust once more.

"Fuck."

"I recommend kissing the dirt."

They stopped walking and huddled together near the ground. Without worry they did this, a habitual thing. Something they were used to. The wind picked up again. Dust enveloped everything this time, cloaks whipping and cracking wildly.

"This is really fucking unecessary!"

"Just be glad we're the ones burying a City this time!"

That frail hope of reviving that ancient regime clung solely to those western mountains, around those western cities. The frozen land wanted nothing to do with days long past, they wanted progression. They acquiesced to the governance of the new age in hopes of destroying the governance of the old, that horrible, oppressive, ineffectual government. And so the new age had strength, it had vitality, it had fresh blood and youth, something which could easily topple a spectre of a spectre. Massive casualties sustained by that youth, for however hopeful they were, the regime of old retained the most powerful devices of warfare. Even, though, did not assure longevity for the regime of old.

"General plans on dusting the city all day."

"General says a lot of things."

Connor and Shannon sat atop a tank. Not one of their tanks, no, an enemy tank, scoured and ashen and trashed.

"Good vantage."

"Can see the whole thing from up here..."

Down in the valley of frosted desert sands was the city, a monolith of stone rising straight up from a sandy basin. Only its outline was visible, though, as it was completely ensconced in dust. The crack of those well oiled machines propagated.

"Good job, by the way."

"Hm?"

"Cutting it off from central."

"Oh."

He smirked, fingering the pin he used to do so.

"I would have blown the whole thing apart."

"Which is why you follow the General, and I follow the Speaker."

She laughed.

"It isn't the speaker who's dusting that city down there is it?"

"No, but you wouldn't have been able to get close enough if it weren't for the Speaker."

And the two quipped at each other as they usually do, the outline of that city become ever more obscure as time wore on. When the dust settled in the morning there would be nothing left.

Secret IC:

Otto von Roding Heinkel: Was ist zu Tenebricosis geschehen?
Ludo Hienkel: Wie bitte? Tenebricosis? Herrgottnochmal! Kein Kaviar! Russland ist leider weg...
Otto von Roding Heinkel : So ein Mist! Aber, es wird einen neuen Herrscher geben...dein Wort in Gottes Ohr!

OOC translation:

"What happened to Tenebricosis?"
"What? Tenebricosis? Oh, for heaven's sake! No caviar! Russia is unfortunately/sadly gone.."
"What crap! But, there will be a new ruler...let's hope so, by goodness!"

OOC: In other words, we want a new power in Russia.

OOC: My apologies for the entirely OOC post, but I wished to publicly compliment you on a refreshing and well-executed writing style. My regards. IC'ly, if you're MT and in need of weaponry or other certain technologies, to include the industrial / agricultural side of things, these might be very easily arranged. Consider it a token of appreciation.

OOC:Thank you, it's appreciated, and as far as I'm concerned this and any other RP I'm writing is entirely open as long as it's reasonable interaction. I'd be thankful for it, actually.

And they ran.

Stone reaching up forever on either side of them, straight up, systematically dotted with shadowed windows. Only a thin line of light forced its way through from above the alley, falling across the wall on their side just above their heads, catching Shanon's stray hairs every so often and emblazoning them golden before being pulled back to below that lonely line of light. Behind them was a silent road, and ahead of them was an endless road, full of cheering. They started running faster. It became more crowded, militiamen donned in dusty uniform saluting them as they ran past. The cheering grew louder, but the mob was still unseen. Then they burst suddenly from that narrow crevice of the city into the open.

Hope's Court. And people were everywhere, and the air was filled with shouting and cheering. When they pushed into the throng, people broke into smiles and laughter. They kept running, though. Someone grabbed Shannon. Shannon grabbed Connor. They whipped around immediately. The General. "Rudolph's in the cathedral." They were separated.

And they ran.

[ooc: is this in Russia? and where?]

OOC: TG for OOC, but yes.

The doors drew themselves closed as Shannon and Connor stepped into that monstrous, elaborate thing. Barely any light inside. No magnificent sunlight streaming in through the stained glass, as those windows were boarded up long before Shannon or Connor set foot within. No incandescent glow cast down from dramatically staged candelabras, those were taken for use as cannon metals. The only light was dusty slush which seeped in front under the cathedral's doors.

"Rudolph!"

Clattering by the altar.

And they were off.

Adrenaline pulsed within that hollowed ground, shoes scuffing along the floor, thudding as they tumble into the pews. Crashing, when one of them stumbled into something metallic. Cracking, a pistol being fired, silence, then gasping and clattering as that pistol was kicked into the dark. No one spoke, no one screamed. There was gasping and grunting.

Then a husky choking sound. A drawn out, tired sound. Choking which continued for too long. And then a thud.

"Shannon. . . Where are you. . ."

"The altar. . . I screwed up. . ."

"I killed him, Shannon."

"Fuck. . ."

They sit in the dark, breathing heavily. And they sat silent.

"Shannon. . . I don't want this. I don't want to be Tsar."

"Don't worry Connor. . . I'll take care of everything."

South Africa hopes you consolidate your hold on russia. such an enormous country under a state of near anarchy would create enormous repercussions on the global magnitude.

-Jaques de bier-

South African foreign minister

Merriam Webster, First Edition

General Wexler has announced the official formation of the Community of Merriam Webster.

Gregory's Day.

Disodium, Exile of Shannon, reported the death of soviet leader Rudolph upon emergence from Hope's Court Cathedral.
Anhydrous, Exile of Connor, appeared beside his sister dragging the corpse of Rudolph, the murder weapon clenched in hand.
General declared Disodium's ascension to Tsar upon confirming Rudolph's death.

...

----

The World

Merriam Webster has found peace.

Disodium, Exile of Shannon, Tsar of Merriam Webster

Merriam Webster, First Edition

General Wexler has announced the official formation of the Community of Merriam Webster.

Gregory's Day.

Disodium, Exile of Shannon, reported the death of soviet leader Rudolph upon emergence from Hope's Court Cathedral.
Anhydrous, Exile of Connor, appeared beside his sister dragging the corpse of Rudolph, the murder weapon clenched in hand.
General declared Disodium's ascension to Tsar upon confirming Rudolph's death.

Merriam Webster has found peace.

Disodium, Exile of Shannon, Tsar of Merriam Webster

[ooc: This sounds either like a big chemistry set or a dictionary]