NationStates Jolt Archive

1200 hours...
Bright lights flashed in the streets of Karas, and people were drinking and singing, two things which were banned on most other days. The borders were open, and people flocked in from all around Varius. It was the Festival of Skorn, the single Holiday in the Templarian calendar. Around 70% of the military was off duty and even the police were smiling. The royals watched the proceeding from the Palace, an imposing black pillar shooting up into the sky. Today, it was draped in lights. What the Queen and her guard didn't notice, however, was the sniper laying on an opposite roof.

X13 checked his Barrett .50 cal, and aimed it again at the Queen's head. He had orders not to fire, not until the peak of the celebrations at 1900 hours...

OOC: Bring diplomats, royals or even just normal people. But no huge armies, okay?

OOC: My actual nation is FT, but can I just use somebody else? Mind if I be an assassin too?

IC:
Izreal thanked the man at the bar, at turned away, taking a sip from the drink as he did so. He smiled at people walking past, shaking hands with nobody in particular.
"Pardon me?" A man said behind him, and he turned around, expecting an attack, but no, just some snob.
"Hello." He said, shaking the mans hand.
"My apologies, but I don't think I've seen you before.." The man said, gesturing with his glass at Izreal.
"I am Izreal..." He smiled at the man, taking a momet to remember what HQ had assigned as his name. "Count Izreal."
The man nodded. "Well Greetings Count, I'll see you around at some point I expect." and without another word he staggered off, probablly already drunk.
I wouldn't bet on it. Izreal thought. He turned his head slightly, a normal man would not have noticed, he looked to his right seeing his target. He was just smiling at the crowd beneath. Good. Pouring his drink into a plant nearby, he walked off, unbeknowest to everyone else.

OOC: No, extra assassin's make things interesting.

IC: The street was still lined with heavily armed guards and a few MAKO drones flew overhead, scanning the area. However, just before one flew over the sniper, he pressed a small button on the butt of his rifle and the drone flew away, registering a false EMP spike. The sniper checked his watch.
1300...

On the main street that ran through the city, a drunk driver sped past the crowd and smashed into a wall, in plain view of Izreal. A lone officer walked over to the man, checked if he was alive, then smashed his head into the dashboard. Whistling then loading the corpse into a Police meat van, the policemen then looked directly at Izreal for a moment then walked away. The crowd continued to drink and party. The crowd knew this show, happened every year. The man never died. Never learned his lesson though either.

1400...

ooc: thank god im back:)
IC: on the far side of the city, a single dragona landed on the top of the gates. His armor blending with the backdrop of the night sky,looking out into the city, he saw the queen with his enhanced optics and said into hes wispersensative mike "she's here, the emporer should be safe, no imediate threght other than the militery, shouldnt be a problem thoe. proceding to hack the gate now" as he finished he pulled a data spike out of his gauntlet, crossed to the nearest console and stabed the spike into it. The spike began to recive information from the dragona satalite in orbit, relaying the transmition from the espionage divisions hq.

Along the highway, 3 black limos began to move forward to wards the gate, thier armor deploying on the move, the gate slowly began to open.

The limos rolled on through without getting stopped.

1700... The Queen went down the Palace, headed for the waiting limo outside. It would take her to central square, where the huge statue of Skorn was. That would be the peak to the celebrations and should only take about... oh, 2 hours.

OOC: Right, it's gonna be 1900 after a few more posts. Maybe around 10 or 6

the limos proceded to move silently thrugh the streets, heading to the statue. 2 of then were filled wit himperial guard members, 1 with highranking members of the militery and the emporer himself. They each carried a gift to the queen (a swan in a cage, a golden chest filled with jewels and a suit of armor made enierly out of white gold.).

The dragona on the gate took off, his mission done, and turned towards Alanos (the city on the sea).

OOC: Yes there is, Field Marshall Cromwell. You can kill him, he's essentially the Arbiter of VT. No one likes him :(.

IC: Cromwell was already drunk. Out of his head, to be precise. He was slumped in a corner of the pub he was in, downing beer at an astonishing rate. He responded to any questions with a grunt and a mumbled curse.
"Despicable behavior for a Field Marshall."
"Despicable behavior for a vagrant, at that."

OOC PS: Nyuuuuuu! n0t t3h t1m3w4rp!

OOC: My target is not the Royals btw (But it would be good if Izreal could kill her in one sweep), but is the Field Marshal of your armies here at the party?



Izreal looked over at what was happenning at the police van, well, that was interesting. Making sure he didn't get caught up in some conversation with some new sycophantic idiot, he made his way through the crowd to a small room. He checked the room number, making sure it was the right one. Yes, this was the room. He remembered what HQ had said, and looked for the small closet, there it was! Izreal opened it, and found the equipment, excellent, there was the bomb, soon it would be set, and this nation would be n ruins, well, maybe not ruins, but just long enough for an attack. And if all else failed, his trusty handgun would do the trick.

ooc: well my militery staff are there aswell so youd be declairin war on us if you were found out, ill toss a coin after the bomb goes off lol.
IC:the statue was drawing closer, the emporer brushed a few specks of dust from his golden brestplate and ajusted his cloaks fastening, he hated the anticipation befor a diplomatic meeting. He flkicked thrugh the notes he had on the templarians and grabed a glass of champain from the vehicles mini bar/fridge. Unable toread thrugh the notes de to nerves he contented himself with bserving how the crowds of people celebrated this holiday "Youd swear it was the only one they had" he said which more than lightened the mood in the car.

Izreal walked out happily, closing and locking the door behind him, seeing a great clamour around the place. He stopped at a window seeing some new person exit from a limo, well he must be important as well, but was he from this country? Eh, HQ never gave him enough info, just enough to complete the operation, in case he was found and questioned on the location of HQ he presumed. If he was from this nation, it would be good to kill him, but if it was someone else, HQ would really be in trouble. He shrugged inwardly, not his problem, he walked away, trying to find where the Field Marshal was.

"I wanna beer." The field marshal groggily bent double over the bar. He smashed his fist on the table yelling "Gimmie a beer! Yoooooou know who I am, no, was, no am, yeah, that one. I'm bloody Gareth Cromwell, now fork it over, peasant!"

After stoping ouside a bar for about 30 minutes to restock the fridge the emporer was tired of wating, and so decided to enter the establishment himself,of course a halfdragon in golden armor with a black cloak and 10 armed guards in silver armor entering a bar casused quite a stir.

Aproching the counter the emporer asked for "some of your finest drinks" and sat waiting at the bar, a little disturbed by, from the look of his uniform, the feild marshal of the town who was now having dificulty rembering who he was.
He could barely conceal a scowl.

Cromwell turned to the Emperor and giggled.
"Whats with that get up? You, mate, look like a prick."

with barely concealed contempt the emporer turned to face the feild marshal, said "well, ceramonial armore does have its uses" and promptly threw a punch at him.

ooc: oops sorry, dunno why i was logged in as ih8u2, meh sorry about that ppl.

Even while drunk, Cromwell's reflexes kicked in. He dodged the punch, then yelled "Oi, I'm a Field Marshal, ye bastard, and I'll..." He was cut off by a policeman pistol whipping him, then tossing him out into the street.

Until then, Brother-Lieutenant Tom Burr had been quietly enjoying his glass of cola and watching the various revellers enjoy their one holiday. The drunkard claiming to be Gareth Cromwell...whoever Gareth Cromwell was, was an irritation, but Burr figured that soon he'd black out and be out of his air. That was, however, until the twat in the armour stepped in. Obviously not human, Burr's quick analysis was enough to label him "Twat who makes up for his tiny penis by dressing up like Clive of India." Antisocial stuff, yes, but then the Brother-Lieutenant was hardly a pleasant person. Still, unless they decided to fuck with him, he could let bygones be bygones, and that attitude was working until the drunk Cromwell was pistol-whipped and fell backwards into the Brother-Lieutenant, making him spill his cola.

"MotherFUCK!" he bellowed, leaping from his chair and hastily trying to brush the liquid from his trousers. Turning to the golden-armoured semi-human, he shouted "You bastard! You fucking owe me a drink, you ****!"

[I want to be very, VERY clear, those are NOT OOC insults. I just know that somebody's going to try to whine that I'm insulting them when it's in-character.]

" And im an emporer" he called after him, thinking how lucky the feildmarshal was, if his mail clad fist had hit then it would have shaterd the cartalige in his nose.
Turning to the angry patron the emporer said calmy "on the contrairy, he ows you the drink, but, however i will pay for your drink, i doubt HE has enugh money left anyway" and paid the bartender for the new drink.

After a few minutes the host finished thier drinks, paid and tiped the bartender and started pondering the insults that the man in the bar had shouted at the emporer, it didn,t take long for them to relize it wa an insult and some of the guardsmen wanted to impale him for his rashness, thankfuly the emporer didnt particuly care, he was trying to keep a relativly clear head for the meeting.

The police officer who threw Cromwell out said, "Sorry about that. That guys a prick." He nodded to the bartender who passed Burr a cola. "Please sir, no trouble today. It's a religious holiday, so we have permission to use extra force. He smiled and bowed. "Have a nice day."

Bowing in turn, The emporer simply said "It matters not, its just a pity i missed!" then proceded to order another round of drinks.