Bellom
28-09-2007, 00:22
Semi-SIC:
Erickas, Bellom
1200 Hours
Sanford wandered outside of his palace, and laid down by the whispering fountain. It had been so long since he had been able to relax without interruption here. He streched his legs out, and brought them up onto the couch. The fountain and the couch. All of a sudden, it hit him. Now he remembered. It had been such a long time ago.
-----
30 years ago
The young boy, only 5 meandered outside. His hands were dug in his jean pockets, and he walked over to the couch where his father sat. His father questioned him, attempting to find the source of this childs problems, but it was to no avail. The boy moped, but remained with his father, who soothingly ran his hand through the boys hair.
Slowly, quietly, the royal slave, Demarcus, stepped over the body of the dead dog. Killing the animal had been a necessity. Now, nothing would warn the opressors of his arrival. He exited the house, a large knife gleaming in his hand. The boy, entranced in his own world, and the father, pondering about the worries of the boy, never noticed him. He slipped up behind the father, and grabbed him, thrusting the knife through his heart and clasping a hand over his mouth. The boy felt the warm splatter of blood on his cheek, and turned to see this horrific image. Screaming, he ran out of the courtyard and alerted a few soldiers who stood outside the door.
Rushing inside the house, they found the slave brutally defiling the mans face with the knife. They shot him like the dog that he was, and hauled the body into the city streets.
Meanwhile...
The sound of gunfire echoed through the city square of Erickas. Elezear James, once a wide-eyed recruit from the House of Elitos was quickly becoming accustomed to the fact that his job was not all fun and games. As a temple guard, he had the brutal duty of keeping the slaves out of the temple. But after years of being deterred, they had had enough. This was a rebellion unlike any that Bellom had seen before, but the power of the gods would not fail them. James took a peek around the doric column he was hiding behind and surveyed the scene. 5 slaves advancing, obviously not professionals. He just needed to hold out until help came. Above all, he had to protect the treasury. He lowered his AK-74 and swung around the column. "CRACKCRACKCRACK" echoed the gun, 3 rounds spewing outwards towards the closest slave. The recoil swung James back behind the column, out of the way of the return fire from the slave, who did not fare as well. The first round tore through his abdomen, and the second two climbed progressively higher, one striking his chest and the other his forehead. He dropped on the spot, uttering only a slight moan that was cut short by the sound of the thud when his body hit the stone walkway leading to the temple.
As well as that went for James, all was not good. The slave's aim was growing progressively better, and he was fast running out of ammo. He had wasted most of it earlier when his partner was still alive, laying down suppressing fire and believing that the fight would be easy. The death of Minher had changed all that. And now, he needed that ammo more than ever. He wished he had filled his extra ammo pouches with something other than the gooey peanut butter and jelly sandwiches his girlfriend had lovingly provided for him, but it was too late to reflect on such issues.
He poked his head out again, and a shot knocked a hole in the column directly above it. Some debris fell on his head, and he realized he had stood too long in the same spot. Resolving himself, he thrust himself into the open, firing away with his AK-74 and swinging in behind a pillar that was a few meters behind and to the left of the column that had previously provided him with cover. As he moved, the bullets from his AK lashed out, striking down two more slaves, but there were still two on the move. Just as he was getting settled behind the cover, a searing pain shot through his hand. He knew what had happened, and the blood inside him boiled with rage. At that moment, James lowered his head. Oh Kreigos, hear me I pray. Let not these heathens overtake thy temple. Raise me up as I defend the and thy honor. Let us be victorious this day. With the fury of the gods, he lowered his gun and ran outside. He blazed away on the first slave he saw, emptying his gun foolishly into the dead mans body. He reached for another clip only to find he was out. He dove towards a rock in the front lawn, but while he did so, the final slave shot him in the foot. He howled in pain, and writhed on the ground. The slave viewed his misery and smiled, then turned to the temple. The treasury was in the back. He walked inside, and began planting C-4 charges. After a short time, he was finished. He walked towards the entrance, only to be confronted by James. He had drug himself over towards the entrance, and now leveled a handgun on the revolting slave. "You will never get away," he shouted.
"Neither do I care," replied the slave. He pressed a button, and flames engulfed him. The explosion threw James back, shattering one of his vertebrae, but it did not kill him. He had failed his duty, but had done so honorably. Perhaps that was why the gods had spared him. Perhaps...
-----
Present times
Now, Sanford stood in the new temple. It stood, grander than before, on the same spot as the old, although it was larger. The memories were real, all to real for Sanford. He turned to his leading general, now a much older and healed Elezear James. "Goddamit Elezear! We put every fucking slave in the capital to death! Every one! We hung their leader by his entrails! We won! Why can't I get over it!"
Elezear shrugged. He was hardened to death, be it of a friend or enemy. The death of Minher had taught him one thing, to value no life other than his own. He fought for bellom, he fought for the honor of the gods. But when it all came down, Elezear was going to save his own ass, because that was what he was good at. And for that, Sanford respected him.
The silince hardened Sanford. The people still loved him, and had, ever since he first donned the crown at the young age of 5. He was not the greatest of warriors, but his house, his people, were a great warring folk, and would stand with him to the end. Bellom would not fall. Bellom could not fall. No slave or nation could make it do so. Bellom would last for ever.
OOC: This is semi-open in the fact that I dont wan't this to be a "You have slaves/executions!" raepraepraep roleplay, as I just saw one of those. Also, if you have a reputation as a wanker or godmodder, don't post. Also, if you can't spell correctly, please don't post.
Erickas, Bellom
1200 Hours
Sanford wandered outside of his palace, and laid down by the whispering fountain. It had been so long since he had been able to relax without interruption here. He streched his legs out, and brought them up onto the couch. The fountain and the couch. All of a sudden, it hit him. Now he remembered. It had been such a long time ago.
-----
30 years ago
The young boy, only 5 meandered outside. His hands were dug in his jean pockets, and he walked over to the couch where his father sat. His father questioned him, attempting to find the source of this childs problems, but it was to no avail. The boy moped, but remained with his father, who soothingly ran his hand through the boys hair.
Slowly, quietly, the royal slave, Demarcus, stepped over the body of the dead dog. Killing the animal had been a necessity. Now, nothing would warn the opressors of his arrival. He exited the house, a large knife gleaming in his hand. The boy, entranced in his own world, and the father, pondering about the worries of the boy, never noticed him. He slipped up behind the father, and grabbed him, thrusting the knife through his heart and clasping a hand over his mouth. The boy felt the warm splatter of blood on his cheek, and turned to see this horrific image. Screaming, he ran out of the courtyard and alerted a few soldiers who stood outside the door.
Rushing inside the house, they found the slave brutally defiling the mans face with the knife. They shot him like the dog that he was, and hauled the body into the city streets.
Meanwhile...
The sound of gunfire echoed through the city square of Erickas. Elezear James, once a wide-eyed recruit from the House of Elitos was quickly becoming accustomed to the fact that his job was not all fun and games. As a temple guard, he had the brutal duty of keeping the slaves out of the temple. But after years of being deterred, they had had enough. This was a rebellion unlike any that Bellom had seen before, but the power of the gods would not fail them. James took a peek around the doric column he was hiding behind and surveyed the scene. 5 slaves advancing, obviously not professionals. He just needed to hold out until help came. Above all, he had to protect the treasury. He lowered his AK-74 and swung around the column. "CRACKCRACKCRACK" echoed the gun, 3 rounds spewing outwards towards the closest slave. The recoil swung James back behind the column, out of the way of the return fire from the slave, who did not fare as well. The first round tore through his abdomen, and the second two climbed progressively higher, one striking his chest and the other his forehead. He dropped on the spot, uttering only a slight moan that was cut short by the sound of the thud when his body hit the stone walkway leading to the temple.
As well as that went for James, all was not good. The slave's aim was growing progressively better, and he was fast running out of ammo. He had wasted most of it earlier when his partner was still alive, laying down suppressing fire and believing that the fight would be easy. The death of Minher had changed all that. And now, he needed that ammo more than ever. He wished he had filled his extra ammo pouches with something other than the gooey peanut butter and jelly sandwiches his girlfriend had lovingly provided for him, but it was too late to reflect on such issues.
He poked his head out again, and a shot knocked a hole in the column directly above it. Some debris fell on his head, and he realized he had stood too long in the same spot. Resolving himself, he thrust himself into the open, firing away with his AK-74 and swinging in behind a pillar that was a few meters behind and to the left of the column that had previously provided him with cover. As he moved, the bullets from his AK lashed out, striking down two more slaves, but there were still two on the move. Just as he was getting settled behind the cover, a searing pain shot through his hand. He knew what had happened, and the blood inside him boiled with rage. At that moment, James lowered his head. Oh Kreigos, hear me I pray. Let not these heathens overtake thy temple. Raise me up as I defend the and thy honor. Let us be victorious this day. With the fury of the gods, he lowered his gun and ran outside. He blazed away on the first slave he saw, emptying his gun foolishly into the dead mans body. He reached for another clip only to find he was out. He dove towards a rock in the front lawn, but while he did so, the final slave shot him in the foot. He howled in pain, and writhed on the ground. The slave viewed his misery and smiled, then turned to the temple. The treasury was in the back. He walked inside, and began planting C-4 charges. After a short time, he was finished. He walked towards the entrance, only to be confronted by James. He had drug himself over towards the entrance, and now leveled a handgun on the revolting slave. "You will never get away," he shouted.
"Neither do I care," replied the slave. He pressed a button, and flames engulfed him. The explosion threw James back, shattering one of his vertebrae, but it did not kill him. He had failed his duty, but had done so honorably. Perhaps that was why the gods had spared him. Perhaps...
-----
Present times
Now, Sanford stood in the new temple. It stood, grander than before, on the same spot as the old, although it was larger. The memories were real, all to real for Sanford. He turned to his leading general, now a much older and healed Elezear James. "Goddamit Elezear! We put every fucking slave in the capital to death! Every one! We hung their leader by his entrails! We won! Why can't I get over it!"
Elezear shrugged. He was hardened to death, be it of a friend or enemy. The death of Minher had taught him one thing, to value no life other than his own. He fought for bellom, he fought for the honor of the gods. But when it all came down, Elezear was going to save his own ass, because that was what he was good at. And for that, Sanford respected him.
The silince hardened Sanford. The people still loved him, and had, ever since he first donned the crown at the young age of 5. He was not the greatest of warriors, but his house, his people, were a great warring folk, and would stand with him to the end. Bellom would not fall. Bellom could not fall. No slave or nation could make it do so. Bellom would last for ever.
OOC: This is semi-open in the fact that I dont wan't this to be a "You have slaves/executions!" raepraepraep roleplay, as I just saw one of those. Also, if you have a reputation as a wanker or godmodder, don't post. Also, if you can't spell correctly, please don't post.