Red Sea

[Farrelei]

((I lold at 'Divine Empress'.
Oh Shelly.))

Kyou stood above them, tilting their heads with his foot as he inspected their faces.
"Imperials? What happened to them? Were there others?"
Rewan shook her head, a little nonchalantly.
"Damnit. Rewan, get a man on these two. Come with me for a moment."

The Sire and Member for Military Affairs were set across from each other. Rewan displayed her usual air of calm, whilst Kyou seemed a little perplexed (far less than he was in the first and second instances, though...).
"Imperials. It's them, isn't it? What will we do?"
Rewan said nothing.
"They're going to retaliate on a much larger scale if we keep allowing little 'accidents' to happen out here. It's already suspicious."
Rewan said nothing.
"How much have they seen? Will we be able to let them go?"
Rewan said nothing.
"We can't risk them finding out where we are. The Empress has remained uncaring for a long time now. Either that, or she's only now honing in on our location."
Rewan said, "We let them go, and they tell her of our little civilisation. The Empire has always incited within its leaders a need for expansion. The Empress knows of the history of these forests."
"We kill them, and she knows we're out here. She has more reason to attack!"
"This is the third unit, Kyou. Sire."
"Exactly. Which is why they'll know."
Rewan sat back in her sit and sighed.
"I'll call a council. Vacate the library."

---

"Nice of you to bloody join us."
April pulled up a seat, "Excuse me for travelling 'cross the Highsea - all the way from Ranra - and getting here without any rest."
"It's called leaving early. Time management, dear."
"I'm an ambassador. I have duties. I'm committing to this little group out of my own goodwill. That can be changed. I can just as easily reverse your relations with the Kingdom as I can strengthen them. I am your goddamn relations, so-"
"Spare me the bloody lecture."
April stood, "Fuck you! Spare me your own fucking lecture on time management. Who the fuck are you!?"
"Would you two stop? You're being childish. April, take a seat. Everyone take a seat. You're making me nervous."
All eyes turned to the ageing man at the head of the table. He had sunken wrinkles around his eyes and a beard of some length, however, he was only in his early sixties. He was still as determined as ever to fight.
The called him Commander. His name was Grorem.
April sighed, "Sorry, Commander."
A silence set upon the table for a moment.
April looked around, "Well? What did I miss? How went the plan?"
A man near the other end of the table stood, his fading blond hair just visible in the dim light, "Failure. So far, at least."
"I expected such. She's dead," April spouted, before quickly adding, eyes turned toward the standing one, "Sorry."
"She's not dead. I confirmed that in the mission, Marriane."
April's eyes flashed to the man beside her.
The standing man continued, "We found her. She was just..."
"Reluctant," finished the man to her side (whose name was Yaroff).
"In other words," said a woman to her right, "Our little vizier here was too loveydovey to carry out his orders."
April rolled her eyes.
The Commander spoke, "Sit, Bowen."
He sat, humiliated.
"If Mr. Kas'kov cannot complete his orders, another will be sent to do them for him."
"I'm in," April raised her hand, then pointed a finger at Bowen and pretended to shoot.
A knock on the wall silenced the table.
The Commander's eyes widened, "Ah, yes... We've had a resurface of interest, everyone."
The wall slid to its side, and a young man stepped through. At first, his face was covered up by the darkness, but as he stepped closer to the lamp on the table, his features became crystal clear.
A murmur filled the room.
"Lord Byron, welcome back to the Light."

((Note: I'm thinking the codeword for the Revolution will be 'the light' or just 'light' when talking amongst themselves before their operations actually go underway.))



Creator: Farrelei.
My name: Kott Grorem.
But please, call me: Commander.
My age: 63.
My faith: Ha'Vadaan. The ideas of the Empire have tainted religion there.
I live: As head of 'the Light', and Principal of the South Imperial Academy. My home is in this academy; honestly, I hardly have to leave it.
My story: I was a talented youth. At first, I had no interest in military affairs, instead flirting with the arts as a preferred lifestyle choice. After the Kas'kov Allied Rebellion in Eron, however, and the shockwave that sent through the youth of Hangyakunin in particular at the time, I felt changed. Originally delving into political and diplomatic means of opposition, after the succession of Shelrair and the massacres of any who opposed the Empress shortly after, I enlisted into the Army of Hangyakunin. I trained hard enough to become a Junior Officer after a brief attack on Filsen. However, the day came when they ordered me to put down a riot.
They were women. They wanted the same rights as the women in Gardaine. The Chief of Military at the time, taking inspiration from the massacres of the Empress, ordered an emergency execution of all those involved. I will never forget the face of the first woman I shot. After she fell, she stared directly at me. I stood still. Whilst others around me continued to fire, I could not.
I was discharged that day, for failure to comply with orders. The Governor of Hangyakunin was handed a letter detailing how upset the Empress was, and ordered the public execution of the Chief of Military. I cannot, for the life, of me understand why I could be discharged for an act which even the Empress found "upsetting" (so she described it).
Shelrair personally attended the memorial for the women in Hangyakunin, announced a statue to be tributed in their honour, and personally signed a decree allowing women in Hangyakunin universal rights (the bitch only wanted to stop further riots. She was afraid of what Hangyakunin could turn into). I took time alone to organise my thoughts. I was a mess. Eventually, I ran out of money. My sins were had. I applied for a position at a military school in order to train the youth of tomorrow with a better understanding so they would never be forced into making mistakes as I was. The rest is history. I met my wife at that school. She shared my ideas and aspirations. We were unbreakbable. Eventually, I was offered a position at the Academy, where I now act as Principal. With the support of others, a small number of students and contacts in Ranra, we established 'Light' - a group dedicated to ending the despotism rapidly expanding across Vadaa, a group dedicated to achieving peace and establishing a government for the benefit of the people. My wife and I were the keenest of all to make change happen. She died four years ago, before the group could begin to flourish. My heart was broken, but I dedicated my future effort all to her. For her, I pledge to change the world.
The Light has expanded. With notable members such as Sir Bowen Kas'kov himself (someone who officially has been dead over 16 years), we have grown an underground movement of quite some proportion. For the time being, the Empire do not know of us. Soon, though, they will.
You see: An ageing man. Diry grey-red hair thinning on my head but thick in the beard, wrinkles sagging my every feature. Yes, my body is frail, but my spirit is still young and burning within.
I like:

• Freedom.
  
• Art.
  
• History.

But hate:

• The despot empress Shelrair and her government.
  
• The Auder.
  
• Inequality.

Roleplays: Red Sea.

[Frost]

Jezebel and Diabora walked down the ridiculously large staircase from the Palace, where a horse-carriage awaited them. Attached to the back was a long cart filled with various mining tools and other implements to use for excavating the insides of Vuerria.
The carriage door was opened by a soldier and the pair of demons climbed inside.
The two sat silently, facing two other men. Their faces were grimy and smudged with dirt. As was their entire body and clothes.

"...Good day, milords," One of the men said, trying his hardest to hide his illiteracy.
There was no response from either Jezebel or Diabora.
"Was hoping it'd be a bit cloudier today. Rain'd be nice too," The other man told them.
The two continued to stare at them with their unusually large, nonhuman eyes.
"Yes," Jezebel replied.
The two men exchanged glances, before resuming looking forward.
"...I believe titles are in order," Jezebel asked.
"Ah yes! I am Uornad, Uornad Ruckles, I am Chief Engineer 2nd Class"
"Uornad Ruckles," Diabora nodded.
"And I am George Georjevic," George told them.
An awkward silence rose between the 4 of them.
"...George Georjevic," Jezebel repeated with doubt.
"That's right."
"Were your parents unable to name you anything different?" Jezebel asked.
"Never knew my parents."
"Oh," Jezebel replied sympathetically, knowing quite well of the importance of a human's attachments to their parents. Diabora, on the other hand, did not.
"What happened to them? Did they die? Who killed them?" Diabora asked abruptly.
George Georjevic did not reply, looking down with a fake smile upon his face.
"Answer the Vanguard of Gardaine, boy."

[Farrelei]

A table lay at the back of the library, now empty apart from three of the Council. Kyou sipped from the husk of a fruit, the juices boiled to perfection. Rewan dipped a finger in hers, testing the heat. Hew sat silently in the corner.
Oscal was always late. As punishment, he never got his husk drinks.
Time slowly drained by. The silence of the library was absolute.

---

In front of the group stood a young man, his long, oily hair tied back in a tail. He scanned the group from behind his spectacles. "BOYYYYS."
loljkAHA. Okay now he has no ponytail. Just like medium hair length. Yeah. HE HAS BROWN HAIR.

---

"What on Vadaa is he doing back here?"
A general unrest exploded throughout the room. Byron paced the room annd stopped at the right-hand side of the Commander, who spoke,
"Please. These arrangements have been organised for months now. I was originally hesitant as well, as would be expected. However, it seems our young lord has come back to us.
April scoffed, "I'm sure. You let him back here without a single ask? Old man, I'm sorry, but we work as a community. Nobody here has more say than the rest of us. Isn't that what we stand for!?"
The unrest resumed, and argument spread thick amongst the group.
"MARRIANE." His voiced silenced the rest, "I've brought him here to prove himself. Not because I've decided."
Byron smiled.
"This is a joke."
"No," Byron replied, "It's serious. I'm serious. Things were difficult for me and I dropped out. I apologise."
"And things are just peachy for me," April sneered.
"...I realise. I realise that now. I never intended to drop the cause forever. I had to sort myself out, and now I'm in a better position than ever."
"What the gods are you propsing?" Someonne blurted.
Byron pulled up a seat, "...I know most of you don't trust me anymore. I wouldn't either. But I've got a plan to throw all the rest. One that doesn't require magic, or religion, or..." He looked at Bowen, "A long-dead empress. I've got a real plan."
All eyes are ears were focused towards him.
April sat up, "So let's talk."

---

"Okay, this is absurd. We've been waiti-"
"SORRY I'M LATE."
They turned in their seats.
"...Oscal."
Oscal was an average man. In appearance. He seemed to have a personality that beyond-charmed the average woman. He also had a rather keen intelligennce, and for these reasons, he was given his position. That being said, he was always 'busy' before council meetings, much to the dismay of the rest.
He slumped in his chair, breathy, "Ministerial things, y'know... What've I missed?"
Rewan rolled her eyes.
Kyou began, "Actually, we haven't started yet. Maybe nnext time, we should."
Hew groaned, "Or perhaps we could appoint a new member?"
Oscal laughed. Everyone else stared at him in silence.
Kyou cleared his throat, "Rewan today detained two more visitors from the Empire."
Hew nodded.
"...It's becoming dangerous."
"Have the people been told?" Oscal asked.
"No... That's not a necessity right now."
"Then?"
"Then..." Kyou continued, "We have to make a decision. Why do they keep comning back here?"
"They're onto us."
"Exactly," Kyou responded, "and if this unit never comes back..."
Rewan spoke up, "...We're in a tight position. If we send them back, the Empire will know. If we don't send them back, the Empire will know."
Oscal chuckled, "Oh, Rewan. What do you suggest we do? Move?"
Rewan ignored him.
"We can't move," Hew decided, "We've only just settled down."
"We're not moving," Kyou agreed, "unless the Elders have a say."
"Those oldtimers wouldn't move," Oscal added, shaking his head.
"Then it's war?" Rewan asked, somewhat sarcastically.
"We ca-"
"War!?" Oscal cheered, "War. No. Have you not heard of bribery?"
"These are Imperial soldiers." Rewan returned.
"Someone's talkative," Oscal jeered back.
"What if we were to fake the identites?" Hew proposed.
"Kill them annd send two of our own into the midst?" Kyou.
"No-one would agree to that," Oscal.
"There'll be more thann two," Rewan added.
"Oscal, please," Hew groaned (again), "Listen. We could be killing two birds with one... Arrow, here." He said, deliberately looking at Rewan, "Not only would this fix our position, we'd have informants in the capital."
"And if it fails?" Kyou asked,
"It's our best bet."
A silence enveloped the contemplating minds.
"...Who would we send?" Oscal asked.
"I don't think it matters," Kyou returned, "They'd be paid heftily."
Hew nodded, "This is a gamble."
Kyou pondered for a moment, "...Perhaps this should go to the Elders."
Rewann nodded slightly.
Oscal bit his lip, "...Listen, I don't think it's worth it. Let's just kill the guys or give 'em a wife or something. There's no point sendinng people off into the fire. Communications would be terrible."
"We're going to die otherwise," Hew responded,
"No. Listen to me. The Empire has better things to do than search for us. Perhaps they're searching for... Something else."
The silence grew between them once more.
"...The Empire will never disturb us. Not once."

[Farrelei]

((Sorry. I have writer's block so that sucked. I meannt to write more with more characters. Also my keyboard is broken so that's why it's always like Bowennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

I'm not turning into a slut.... Just my keyboard is ;D))

[Frost]

"What is that?" Creuw asked, pointing west into the forest.
Ursula turned around, squinting forward but could not see anything.
"Probably just a native rodent," Ursula responded. "Try and stay focused."
"No. It's a vehicle. It's not moving."
Ursula heaved a heavy sigh before turning towards him.
"Don't you see it? Do you have your spectacles?" Creuw asked tauntingly.
"Fine!" Ursula spat, "We'll go and inspect it then," Ursula spoke.
The two shiftily ran from tree to tree, barely making a sound. As they grew closer to where Creuw was pointing, Ursula saw that Creuw was right. Under large forest branches, obscured from view, was a large, armoured transport. It was cube-shaped with large cannons pointing in four different directions. Spiked, Iron treads were it's form of mobility.

"Hey! Called an angry man from behind them. The owner of the vehicle. Ursula lifted her hand and tilted her gun backwards, firing and shooting the man in the head without turning her head a fraction.
The duo pulled away the shrubs that were intended to hide the vehicle, and entered it through a large porthole that sat flatly across the roof.

"Do you know how to operate it?" Creuw asked as the both of them sat in small metal chairs facing an intricate network of buttons and knobs.
"It's a new technology, it seems. I'm used to driving more simple machinery than this," Ursula replied with a frown as she examined the internal layout.
"Well...Is there anything you are familiar with?" Creuw asked again.
Ursula looked down between the two seats she and Creuw were occupying. Between them was a large, slender piece of metal designed to be pulled back.
"This is the handbrake," Ursula told him as she reached down below her and released it. "It's supposed to-" Suddenly, the machine began rolling sharply backwards, colliding with trees and shrubs on it's downward path to potential destruction.

"Where's the acceleration!? Move forward, Ursula, Forward!" Creuw screamed as the machine crashed into a large tree, causing it to spin out of control. The tank heaved forward, sending Ursula and Creuw down onto the control buttons with a forceful push. Various buttons were pressed.

Myst blasted out of three pipes connected to the vehicle's backside, revving the engine inside of it and causing the Empire's tank to speed forward with a powerful roar.
Creuw was knocked forward again as they drove up a large hill, hanging in the air for several moments before falling back to the ground with a dangerous thump. He fell onto a large clutch, pushing it all the way down, activating the cannon controls.

The 4 cannons rose slightly, furiously firing cannonballs into hundreds of directions, destroying trees and disrupting the usual tranquility that exists in the forest.
"TURN IT OFF. TURN IT OFF!" Creuw yelled as they continued speeding forward, now on a large clearing. An occupied clearing.
Ursula cursed something forbidden as a cannonball crashed into a tall, wooden outpost, converting it to splintered rubble as it fell to the ground.
A man ran forward with a large musket, calling out to others. He was flattened by the malfunctioning machine soon after.

Ursula and Creuw continued their path of death as they approached a large building. The village's library.

[Farrelei]

((lolololrecko. I thouht it said "The two shittly ran"))

[Farrelei]

((Remember to modify it so whatshisface dies))

"...Do any of you hear that?" Kyou asked.
Rewan raised an eyebrow, and Oscal murmured a "Huh?"
Then, as if an invited yet rudely intoxicated guest arrived at the most heinous of times, the ground shook where they lay and any hint of silence was quickly forgotten. The roots of the thousand year old tree shook in the ground, and a myriad of cracks and slams burst forth as part of the right wall of the library collapsed as a great mechanical beast throttled forward, the machine gun perched atop its ceiling firing randomly into the open.
In the chaos, a few members of the council ducked under a table. Rewan flattened herself against a wall in front of the tank, whilst Oscal half-crumpled to the ground after taking what seemed like heavy fire. One of the librarians was screaming in the corner. For all they could tell, she was hit too. Kyou yelled something, but nobody heard him over the grinding gears and rapidly-firing gun.
"NOT THE RELIGIOUS TEXTS SECTION!"
Kyou turned his head around. It was the librarian. At least she's safe, he thought.
Rewan grit her teeth. Her weapons weren't allowed at meetings, though she'd insisted every time in case something bizarre ended up happening. Fools.
As several more loud crashes destroyed any hope the librarian had left inside her tiny, fragile heart, the machine swung around. She ducked just in time, as bullets riddled the framework of the librarian's office behind her. The tank darted forward once again, this time towards a group of four or five children crying in a corner.

Suddenly, there was a choke. The tank stopped. Then lurched again, and then stopped. Nobody moved. The tank spluttered a little bit, but slowly the gears stopped working. Kyou poked his head out from behind the table. The library was in ruins. The children collected themselves and ran. Oscal had broken into what seemed to be a neverending song of moans, groans and cries as he gripped his arm. Sadly, Hew thought, He was only hit once.
Rewan turned and faced the tank. Directly behind it's bulky exterior, she noticed slender, freshly-snapped pieces of bookshelf sharp enough to take out a man. She darted forward, lifting two pieces of the wood with ease. One plank held under her arm, the other in her hand, she climbed the monstrous tank and pulled back the ceiling cover. Almost immediately, a bullet shot from the hole. Whoever's piloting this thing is a bitch,Rewan thought.

Ursula sneered, Whoever's waiting for us up there is a bitch.
Creuw looked at Ursula. His heart was beating fast. Although a part of him was incredibly angry at her for getting them into this situation, he loved her.
I AM A MAN. ((Remember how you said he was like Recko? )) He told himself before gripping his firearm tightly and stepping up to the hole. Almost immediately, a spear-like plank of wood lodged itself into his chest, and he collapsed with a yelp. Ursula sighed.

Rewan smiled, Got him.
She was about to descend into the cockpit when she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye.
Huh? Are there more?
Without warning, the shadow darted upward, and Rewan found herself face-to-foot with a somersault-backflip kick, flying through the air and landing on the ground with a thump. Opposite her landed the attacker. Rewan quickly leapt upward, regaining her grip of the plank and eyeing down her foe.
Ursula simply pointed her gun at the woman, shaking her head with a smile.

It had begun.

---

((I'm skipping to this part because otherwise it will be like
Emilia: ......
Verith: ..So...
Emilia:
Verith: ;-; I'm an orphan.))

Verith attempted to admire himself in a window reflection before he was hurried off by royal servants. He had changed into clothes 'more befitting his host', as his old clothes were now dirtied by sand and two days without change.
"You haven't enough time to bathe," One of the women spoke, "So you'll have to hold these perfume bags here, here, and here." She molested his pockets with bags of lavender-smelling things. Probably lavender.
"Oh, and Jaine, shouldn't he put some oil around the ears?"
"Do you have spare scenting oil, Bern? Because I'm not getting executed for failing to provide an acceptable boy before the ship arrives."
Bern giggled for a moment.
"What's so funny!?"
"Oh, nothing. Just the concept of you 'providing an acceptable boy'."
"GIRLS FIND MY SON ATTRACTIVE."
Without further word from the ladies, Verith's wrist was gripped, and he was led quickly into the awaiting airship on the ground. It's faces were painted a pattern of dark purple and black, with a protective layer over the top and outlining the sides, made of metal and silver, with Queen Emilia's personal seal engraved on the top and sides. Similar black and purple columns arose from various places on the ship, which was medium in size, but very beautiful.
"Welcome aboard the H.M.S Storm," a man behind him said, as he was led up to the stairs, "Private ship of Her Majesty the Queen Emilia."

((BFFFFFFFFHHHHHHH.))

[Frost]

"I know what this is!" Shouted Ursula atop the rubble that lay sprawled across the library floor, still aiming her gun toward Rewan. "Secret Empire Spies!" Ursula screamed.

---

"So how are my Secret Empire Spies doing?" Shelrair asked as she sit at a large, mahogany table, surrounded by many government officials clothed in velvet blue and yellow robes.
"You mean our Councilmen, Empress," Said a man cloaked in a similar, yet more intricately designed robe than the others. "We have matters to discuss with you. For a decade now we have stood by and watched you control over 100 million soldiers at your will. Half of which are orphans that you personally adopted and conscripted."

Shelrair frowned slightly. "The Empire, and all it's glory, is still rightfully mine."
Another man coughed. Shelrair turned her head slightly toward him..
"We would like to control 60 Percent of the Military's Population."
Shelrair stood up, her eyes dilated and furious.
"You will not take a single soldier. Not a soul."
"55 percent then."
"No."
Every Councilman and Councilwoman stood up, gazing toward her.
"We require it. For the good of this nation."
"I am the Empress. I will not allow it."
Each and everyone of them heaved a heavy sigh. Silence.
Another being coughed, sitting in the corner of the room on a small lounge-chair.
"Might I add, Empress," He began. "With the Council exercising some control over the Military, it would free the remainder from any grip but yours. If you satisfy these dear Councilmen's desires, they will surely not ask anything more from you. Give them 40 percent. Let the babies have their bottles, and their thirst will be quenched, and they will sleep."

Shelrair sighed, her teeth clenched.
If a Brethren is for this decision, it could only mean that he is right.
"I will give you 35 Percent of the Military Population. No more. Thats 35 Million soldiers. Begone, and do not ever return here requesting anything else. May I ask of your intentions with this huge amount of the Empire's forces?" Shelrair asked, her hand grasping the large handgun that resided on her lap.

The Leader of the Council stood.
"For security inside this Country's walls."

---

"So who killed your parents?" Diabora questioned again.
"I told you, he was masked," George Georjevic replied, growing eternally uncomfortable.
"Diabora, enough, can you not see that this subject is difficult for George to deal with. They are not as durable as us," Jezebel told him with a forceful pull of his shoulder.
"Would you not want them avenged? We can find them, we can destroy them!" Diabora shouted with a slam of his fist onto the seat.
"It was 25 years ago, sir, I ain't really got a reason to, 'may already be dead."
"WE DON'T KNOW THAT."
"Diabora please, let's discuss something slightly more relev-" Jezebel stopped talking as the carriage came to a holt. A Man approached the door and opened it, looking up at them.
"My Lords, we have arrived."
The four passengers stepped out of the carriage and were led to the front of the horse carriage.
"Behold, the Mountain Fortress of Vuerria," The Man told them with strange pride, and sure enough, looming ominously in front of them in a thick shroud of fog, was a cluster of spires. The Vuerrian Mountains. Home of the Eminence Ancients and one of the Original Altars.

---

[Farrelei]

((BFFFFH. Two things: It would not make sense for the army to be under Siberius' leadership, because his position was replaced and put into the hands of Emilia and Jezebel when they became joint queens. However, you still made the point that you wanted added security in gardaine. That's a good point, because if we think about it, Gardaine's Army seems to belong solely to the Empire and there isn't any real 'national' defense force. They could really just use this reason.

Also, where is the Hope/Jezebel+Diabora thing going? because It would be weird if we were like thenshewaskidnapped. Thenshewaskidnappedagain. Or something. But if you can make it work, do it. Because otherwise she'll be disappeared for like half the story, so we DO need SOMETHING to do with her xD

I don't know if you read the Red Sea OOC thing completely cause it's a bitch to read and is really boring, but there are 2 councils: One for ruling Gardaine (with Emilia and Jezebel technically the heads of the country, under Shelly as Sovereign of the Empire), the other to asisst Shelly in ruling the Empire. We might just make it one council if we re-make it, but for now I think we shoudls tick to two. The one shelly's talking to now would be Gardaine's. The Imperial Council should be on Shelly's side, so when Gardaine declares its independance and turns its guns on the Palace, thinking this will stop the Revolution from attacking them (which it won't ;D), they can assasinate Imperial Council leaders and Shelly can be like "oh </3" Or something.))

Rewan spared no time in striking her foe as she spoke. The plank she threw slammed hard against Ursula's hand, knocking the gun from her grip.
"Ugh!"
Ursula snatched up the plank as it fell, licked her hand where it had been cut, and then sprinted forward. Rewan raised her plank in defense, and the two women clashed as water to electricity, shooting darts from their eyes and daringly striking at unprotected areas.

---

"We're nowhere near what we'd planned."
Chancellor Byrde shifted in his seat, removing his pipe from its case. He considered the words of his councilman just now, before replying carefully, "We've achieved more than I expected, Tenin."
Tenin watched the palace grow distant as the carriage drew away, "...Courageous words from our leader."
Byrde laughed, lighting as he did, "So cynical, Tenin. We've conscripted 35 million souls and they don't even know it yet. That's 35 million guns."
Tenin sneered, "It's far less than our goal."
"Our goal was to lessen the power and influence of the Empress over Gardaine. We've done that significantly."


Shortly, their carriage and several others containing Gardaine's Council men and women arrived at Viceroy House. One of the oldest and largest estates within Gardaine, it was an historical house once belonging to the Empire's viziers. Most recently, it was the home of Asmoday Waurd, the current Vizier to Empress Shelrair, and before that, to Vizier and later King Siberius of Gardaine, one of the most prominent modern historical figures of Eron.

Being a viceregal residence, as well as an expansive and majestic house under the direct ownership of the Crown, Viceroy House was chosen by Shelrair as the location for the Council of Gardaine to meet concerning government duties. This act not only provided the Council with a proper establishment, but served to further its' governmental image and respect in the eyes of the people. On the other hand, this generous gift upheld diplomatic relations between the Empire and its' most proud nation's new self-government constitutions, and still acted formerly as official residence of the Vizier (though he was usually to be found residing at the Palace itself, and the residence was six years ago determined to be officially shared also with the Chancellor) in an attempt to retain a strong image of Imperial power over the nation. The Empress was therefore expected to be recieved with much praise from her councillors; this was true until recently, with Shelrair's seemingly relentless expansion, oppression and tendency to rely too heavily on her 'bretheren' becoming an increasing worry for the Council, whose opinion reflected that of the people (although public admission of these worries would most likely have one executed).

Behind its gleaming, white marble walls, the house contained a wide assortment of multipurpose rooms, including those reserved for visiting representatives or less-important Heads of State. By far, the most important room was the old theatre, converted twelve years ago to the Council Chambers, which were filling up with excitement this day, the Sun shining beyond the multi-storey windows of the Chamber seemingly beaming optimism from all the member's hearts.
The Chancellor cleared as throat after the Chamber had fallen silent. Fifty eyes stared into him; admittedly, he had to refrain from smiling under pressure, "Ladies and gentlemen..."

---

April downed the glass and wouldn't be stopped from demanding another.
"So, Byron, eh?" The woman she brought asked, attempting to make some kind of conversation with the woman, who was seeming more monster by the moment,
"Eh!? Byron, eh!?!? Ooohhh.... That man'ss a bitch."
The one-armed bartender slid along another glass, "You gonna pay!?"
"Ssshhyeh... Imma ambassador," she hiccuped, giving the lady a wink,
"Hah. Vadaa's a slum these days," the bartender replied, getting on with her work.
The woman next to her remained silent.
"You gonna drink?"
"...I don't drink, Marianne."
"Call me April. Why'dya come if ya don't drink!?"
"...We're friends, April... I-"
"She's hot."
"Huh?"
"The 'tender. She's got real firm booooobs." ((LolNicolette))
The bartender heard this and turned around, "The name's Rosa," she winked, "Remember it."
April whistled, "Will do, love!"
Eleanore licked her lips and turned, I hate my job sometimes.

[Farrelei]

"Dismissed now; come for these in the morning."
"Yes, my lord."
Jervic Byron watched after the servant as she left, turning to his wife when the door was shut. She sat opposite him, across the small, round table. Her blonde hair looked darker in the candlelight, which brought out the full redness of her makeup as she smiled, "They were happy?"
"Hardly," Byron murmured, "Though they're all too loyal to Grorem to do anything about it."
"They should be happy," she stated.
Byron filled their glasses with some wine the servant left behind, "I suppose they are, in a way. It's not easy to regain trust..."
"It wasn't in your power..."
"I know. Thank you." He raised the glass to his lips. She imitated,
"At least we've done all we can now. We're secure."
He nodded in response to this, smiling, "Yes, Lydia. Do you think they'll write history books about us?"
"They'll have them dedicated to us," she chuckled.
"...To history, then."
They toasted.




Creator: Farrelei.
My name: Jervic Byron.
But please, call me: Lord Byron.
My age: 26.
My faith: Ha'vadaan, more or less.
I live: As son to the Governor-General. A lap of luxury, perhaps, but it comes with its grievances.
My story: Being the son to the Governor-General of Hangyakunin is great when you're a kid. I've had servants, tutors, the whole deal. What sucks is when you're forced to accept the beliefs of the time.
All I hear is the words of the Empire, and that's all I'm taught to hear. After being punished for 'thinking too much,' I've come to realise that the world as it stands is in a very difficult predicament. I've taught myself to open my eyes; I've spent time amongst the people and I've travelled where I've had the chance. My kidnapping by the Light several years ago was actually probably one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Working with the Commander and his followers there, I was able to detail a plan for the political future of Vadaa, including the emancipation of Immestrial's vassals and ill-treated territories, as well as the independance of my beloved Hangyakunin. My father, however, will have me bow to the Empress and kiss her feet. He does not trust me to take over as his heir, and I'm sure that, upon his death, another will be appointed his position. After catching wind of my double life, my father had me tortured. I refused to speak too much of the Light, but what I did was enough for them to forrbid me return. Now, the Light doesn't officially exist in the eyes of the government. For a while, I attempted to please my father, indeed attempting to settle into a life of Imperial servitude as he had. Sadly, his health failing him, I realise our relationship will not be mended in time for me to be named his successor. My thoughts lingering between what I deem as right and what is heathen, my wife Lydia has convinced me to see once again the Light.
You see: A young, thin man, bespectacled, with dark brown hair and blue eyes.
I like:

• Power.
  
• Reading.
  
• Games.

But hate:

• Being used.
  
• The arts.
  
• Demons.

Roleplays: Red Sea.

[Frost]

Ursula swung the plank of wood over and under her body, almost simultaneously, as she kicked Rewan in the knee before hurling the plank of wood toward her.
Creuw staggered forward from the ground, his head throbbing in pain. A pair of men approached him angrily, but were shocked as Creuw roundhouse-kicked one in the neck and kneed the second in the groin, causing yelps of pain from both.

---

Hope rummaged through her satchel that hung from her shoulder for any leftover food, but to her avail merely found old bread crusts. Hesitantly, she nibbled upon them, her stomach growling louder than Kindle as she beckoned for food herself.
"I know, girl, I know," Hope said, petting her as they continued to walk through grassy plains not an hour's walk from the abandoned town. Is all of this even worth anything? Is it of any value? Hope wondered as she continued wandering through the land of her thoughts.

Night fell across the land as the sun set. Kindle came to a stop, looking over the horizon intently. Hope continued walking ahead for a moment, then realised her companion had halted. "Kindle...What is it?" Hope asked. Kindle continued gazing past her, growling softly under her breath. Hope stood up and looked to where Kindle was staring. Bands of horses and their riders were approaching them rapidly. Upon seeing them, Hope felt relieved. "Finally, people who can give me directions, they may even give me some of their food, if we're lucky," Hope told Kindle, who turned her head upward toward Hope.

[Farrelei]

Rewan groaned, but quickly regained her compsure, leaping up only to come face-to-barrel with another one of Ursula's pistols, taken from her concealed leg holster. Ursula smiled. Unwilling to allow his top military official death, Kyou, in the desperation of the moment, clung onto the myst and aura around him, combining what little he could with his limited powers into a concentrated point, firing it the woman with as much speed as he could muster, which coincidentally happened to connect with her shoulder just before she squeezed the trigger of her gun, sending a stray bullet at a library wall, embedding it deeply into the ancient tree in which it was built. Rewan seized the moment, connecting her knuckle with Ursula's cheek, spinning and kicking the weapon from her hand. Ursula, though shocked, was not faltered. She, too, being an ex-assassin, knew the ways of the hand. She latched onto Rewan's hair, pulling her to the ground. She bit into her neck and Rewan screamed sharply in alarm. This happened to alert her ercilie, the bird of red and blue, atop one of the tree branches.

"Nice move, boy!"
Kyou spun around, decidedly distracted by this rude welcome. Creuw smiled evilly. Kyou began to concentrate once more on the myst, but Creuw was faster, hurling one of the planks from earlier at the Sire, who hadn't the time to properly react and defend himself.
"Descendants here, too, eh?"
"Descendants!?" Came Ursula's voice from across the floor, still mid-struggle with the red-headed warrior. A screech broke Creuw's chance to speak, and a pair of large talons lifted Ursula from Rewan's body, raising her higher and throwing her onto the same wall her bullet pierced only seconds before.
"Descendants!?" Kyou mimicked, "We're no Descenders, Imperial scum."
Crew frowned, "Imperial scum!?"

((I will post of Eleanore later; either before or after you post depending on when I feel like doing it.))

[Farrelei]

From the moment she regained her senses, she was running. While her thoughts took their time to place themselves correctly, she felt only a reigning dread. Her chest burned, but she kept throttling forward. The world was a blur, and she forgot even who or what the danger was. She turned a corner and took a brief moment to survey the road ahead. It was wide. On either side of her lay another road, however, she knew these to be dark, and the shadows seemed more threatening than usual. Beyond those paths stood buildings of many colours, all of them towering above her, however. She felt as though they were each somehow familiar and yet incomprehensibly different. Not even the palace was clear; though it stood at the end of the road, she could not tell whether it were of Gardaine or Hangyakunin in the half-light.

They were encroaching, and the ship in the sky screamed as it burned mid-fall. She started to run once more to her home. Occasionally, she turned to fire on the soldiers behind her, though she was never sure of her success. The palace gates were raised, and seemed higher than usual. She was mid-climb when she began to slide downward. The hungry mouths of her pursuers grinned with delight at this spectacle. With tears in her eyes, she struggled against the gate poles, inching her way back up and eventually over, falling heavily to the ground below and seemingly damaging a limb in the process. She began to climb the stairs to the palace when a sharp pain shot up her arm. She turned to see her fellow officer smirking, cocking his gun. She hid behind a column as he opened fire once more. Though she tried desperately to warn him of the Phoenix hurtling towards them both, he refused to listen. Behind him, she saw the demon. The ground smoked where he stepped, his thousand-year-old hands still strong in the moment. He raised a hand and a ball of fire shimmered into view. Within seconds, the officer was down, blood against the walls and floor.
She left the column and glared at the demon, who nodded to her, "The Empress needs to leave before..."
"Before what?"
"It happens again."
The palace doors seemed to open now as if called, and several maidservants - both human and bretheren - trailed from its mouth. The Empress left behind them. Eleanore, for that was the name of the woman, raised her gun and fired past the Empress Shelrair, into the forehead of a boy with a knife.
"Thank you, Elle." Shelrair replied, climbing hastily into the carriage and taking off.
"Wait!" The high officer cried to little avail. The phoenix was almost upon her now, and she could feel the burn as it came ever closer.

---

Rosa opened her eyes. They hurt. Sitting up, she aroused the sleeping Rhys, who joined her in her position and tilted his head, "You alright?"
"A dream."
"A dream?"
"Sorry..." She raised herself and got dressed, all the while deep in thought.

[Frost]

"Have you ever flown in an airship of this grandeur before, child?" Came a voice all too familiar to Verith. Sitting on a small throne in the middle of the passenger seats was the infamous Queen Emilia. He was forced to sit beside her as the airship continued it's smooth path Gardaine. "No," Verith replied finally, observing his surroundings. Situated above him was a large chandelier, which seemed entirely inappropriate and unnecessary. What if they encountered flight disturbances? Or if they were attacked? This chandelier would surely fall and kill multiple people.
"I have been in an airship before, many, actually, but nothing this size or...peculiar," Verith told her. Emilia nodded. For much of the trip, Verith elaborated on everything he said, not only to impress the Queen, but to also stop her from talking. Every time Emilia spoke, his ears would burn and his spine would freeze. It terrified him. He was certain she was a witch or a sorceress.

---

"We are not from the Empire!" Ursula yelled furiously, spitting afterwards. The bird approached her violently. "A challenge, I see," Ursula mocked. In almost the same amount of violence, she leapt upward, readying her fists. She screamed a battle cry as she jumped, both creatures ready to tear each other limb from limb. She was interrupted abruptly by a single, burning ball of energy, causing her to be flung leftwards, skidding across the ground and away from the bird. Creuw ran to her side, but was hit with the same energy soon after. They both lay sprawled across the ground, raising their heads to their attacker, and were dismayed to see a shrivelled old man standing before them, a wooden staff in his hand.

---

"Woah," Said the Carriage-Driver, slowing his horses as Hope waved them down. At first, Hope was skeptical as to what to say. This had been her first contact with someone not from her hometown. "G-Good afternoon, sir," She stuttered. She heard voices from all the carriages behind her. Realising she was holding everyone up, she took a step back, shaking her head. "Need a ride?" Came a comforting voice from inside the second carriage. It belonged to a young man, only a few years older than herself. Kindle hesitated, then followed after Hope. "How old are you? Surely a minor," Said the young man, his head poking out of his window, gazing down to her. Hope chuckled slightly. He was incredibly attractive. Not like any of the boys she knew in Ilridge. Ilridge's population was infamous for it's blonde-haired, tanned, God-like humans, but this man was different. His hair was dark brown, and his skin rather fair. Similar to herself. "I'm 16, almost 17," She replied. He opened the carriage door, beckoning for her to come inside. Not even reluctantly, she obeyed. He closed the door after her. There was one another man sitting beside him, possibly his Father, Hope noticed. "What about Kindle, my pet?" Hope asked as she sat closely beside him. "Pet? Where?" He replied, looking out the window once more. She pointed to her, and sure enough, a young tiger stood rather close beside the carriage, growling.
"Oh, that."
Hope nodded, "Do you think it would be possible if she climbed in, I'd be so..."
He pulled out a gun swiftly, quickly taking aim toward Kindle.
"No!" Hope screamed furiously, tackling him into his seat, not even mindful of her actions, acting completely on an impulse foreign to her. Kindle roared ferociously, jumping up and clawing at the door, ripping it to shreds with her powerful, yet still immature claws. The other man in the carriage practically had to rip Hope away from his friend. She screamed as tears ran down her face. "Stop! Please! I beg of you! Please! Please! I'll do anything! Kindle! Run away! Run away!" She screamed desperately, tears streaming down her face as she tried to escape from the other man's hold on her. Kindle continued trying to get inside, roaring, desperate to get to her Master. The man grabbed hold of the gun that he dropped onto the floor upon being tackled by Hope, taking aim. Hope screamed and cried, her one free arm reaching out to pull the man away. "Run, Kindle! Run! Please! Please stop! No!" A deafening, piercing noise erupted. Hope screamed, unable to hear herself. The roaring stopped as the sound of a collapsing body thumped to the ground.
Hope fell to the floor, her dress soaked in her tears.

She winced suddenly as a sharp pain filled her body. She screamed, clutching her heart as she felt her own soul be vacuumed from her. The pain was excruciating. She striked her head over and over with her fists, her head burning. Everything else felt cold as ice. She went numb from the pain as she was picked up from the floor and placed back on a seat, dazed from the heart-wrenching torture her body was experiencing. She felt her clothes beginning to be removed from her, though she was unable to protest or resist. Her vision was completely blurred...

The ground shook as a flash of blue light flew past. Whatever was removing her clothes stopped. Her hearing was the first of her senses to begin functioning. Then the mobility of her head. She looked out of the window, her vision still clouded and the pain still unbearable. Both men ran outside rapidly, carrying weapons. More of the same heavenly light swirled. She crawled to the window, clutching her chest as she moved, each limb burned as she continued moving closer. She wanted to die. And waste away.

She managed to pull herself high enough to peer out of the window. A blur of what seemed to be blue fire swept around a single figure, weaving the beautiful flames around him, then toward other figures. A blur of white shot past her, slashing at two other figures who yelled inaudibly toward it. The white blur roared louder than anything she had ever heard. Her vision became dark red. She felt her eyes. Blood was falling from them, covering her cheeks. She could hear a familiar voice, roaring just as the white blur did, only the figure spoke. "Father...Father..." She whispered. She grasped the door handle, her hands shaking and covered in the blood from touching her eyes. She leaned down on the handle, causing the door to fling open as she plummeted to the ground. "Father..." She called, trying to scream out toward him.

She lay on the ground, her eyes still open, watching as the blue flames swept around the carriages, destroying everything it their path. A figure was approaching her, but she was unable to react or respond. Suddenly, the white blur raced toward it, ripping at it's head, forcing the figure to the ground. She could just see her Father, running over to her. "Daddy...Dad!" She yelled with all her might, but it simply resonated as a whisper, nothing more. She felt herself being lifted up, slumped and leaning on her Father. Her head still throbbing in pain, her heart frozen. Feeling secure, she let herself faint.

"My Daughter..."
Siberius wielded the aura to cover the entire field, surrounding the multiple carriages and they're inhabitants. Montecore ripped any attackers to pieces that tried to stop him.
How dare they. Those filth. You will all pay for what you have done to my Daughter.
"Montecore!" Siberius boomed with incredible power, calling to his spirit beast. Montecore ran toward him, standing beside him proudly.
"Farewell."
Siberius withdrew the energy that surrounded the people. It was as if they were in the eye of a hurricane, watching as it destroyed everything in it's path. He absorbed every ounce into his arm, tightening his fist and tensing at the amount of power and that resided in him, but for only a moment. He outstretched both his arms, his palms were open, his long fingers spread as far as they could. Before the energy calmed, he unleashed it again furiously, causing the blue aura to erupt from his arms, sweeping across the land, engulfing everything in it's path of destruction. Burning bodies were flung into the sky. Siberius felt the energy begin to deplete from him, as did his anger and lust for revenge. Finally, after several long moments, he withdrew himself, leaving nothing but a desolate field deprived of the carriages and the horses. Not a glimpse of life.

Siberius kneeled to the ground, holding Hope.
"Hope..." He whispered into her ear.
Montecore whimpered beside her, licking at her face. She frowned slightly.
Siberius looked to Montecore.
"There's nothing left of her. On the inside. I can feel it," He told his companion.
He opened his hand, twirling his fingers, creating a small, majestic ball of blue light. The same energy he used to devour countless people not a moment ago. He placed the light onto her forehead, and immediately, a breath of relief escaped her.

"Be still..."

[Farrelei]

A period of silence gradually lay down upon the two strangers. The sun outside having climbed higher in the sky, Verith - by request of the Queen - lowered the room's blinds, plunging it into an almost-darkness. Within seconds, the chandelier atop the ceiling began to light - candle by candle - until the entire room was warmly by its many flames. The Queen smiled, and beckoned the child return to his seat. "I gather your former royal transport to be similarly-equipped," she spoke, slowly and carefully allowing the words to roll off her tongue and linger uncomfortably around them.
The Prince sat and stared at where her eyes would be if she were looking at him, however her gaze seemed to be held on something on the wall to her left. Verith much preferred it this way, "Never so extravagantly, Your Majesty, though with the same technology, yes."
She chuckled for a moment, "Of course. How many airships had Asfare, in any case?"
"None. Well, none completed."
She placed her hand nonchalantly upon the brim of the glass beside her, sipping gingerly before returning it to its former place, "Thieves to the bitter end."
"That's a word for it," Verith replied calmly.
"A word?" Emilia turned to her head so she could look at him. He turned away instinctively, avoiding her eyes, "My dear ex-prince, my word is the word."
Verith allowed a smile to form slightly, "I'm afraid I'm still Crown Prince of Asfare, Your Majesty, and my word is the-"
Emilia emitted a sharp cackle, silencing the boy. When it passed, she replied heartily, "Such nerve is admirable. A Crown Prince so it may be, in Asfare. In my dominion, you are but a piece to be played. And regardless of where you are right now on Vadaa, my word holds power to the point yours could be seen as only on the brink of extinction, if not gone entirely. Your royalty in Asfare is puppetry at best. Your people now build the statues of Shelrair, our - and, most importantly, their - Empress. In time, you will mean no more to them as she, and they will renounce your petty throne." At this point, the Queen allowed herself another sip of her beverage. She savoured it - and the silence - before commenting on her next point, "In fact, the people of Gardaine may well be ahead of you. No longer am I seen as their sole ruler - nor even the joint thrones seen as the sole hand of governance. No, even Her most loyal servants seem distant now. The Council has invoked a dangerous, albeit interesting advance in the thinking of the people there. It will similar, soon, in Asfare I assume. Only your dear mother replaced by a governor of the Empress' choosing. In any case, I don't really care what the people think. If it comes to bloodshed, the more, the merrier, am I not right?"
Verith sat in silence as the woman before him laughed. Almost immediately as she stopped, there was a knock on the door. Regaining her stoical self, the Queen answered the servant come. "An hour 'til Gardaine, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, Angel. Leave us."
Verith downed his glass of water, "Emilia-"
"Don't call me that."
"...Technology is a thing to be shared."
"Technology is an evolving beast to be tamed, perfected and commanded to destroy the many other beasts of the planet. Verith, I rather dislike technology, because it makes killing people less fun. What it does do is make a very big drama, drawing in all sorts of people and places and confusing everything without purpose. It makes things easier, but at the same time it destroys meaning in the most beautiful of places. Take the sky, Verith. A century ago, people saw the sky as a place of beauty, an unreachable, godly place, giving meaning to religion and thus hope to people worldwide. With the advent of Emperor Johl, however, religion was banned, technology became dominant, and now the sky is but a wide road to travel. It is polluted, and it is disgusting."
"People don't want to die under the burning sun, never leave their town and forever eat potatoes for every meal. They want to get relief from sickness, live long enough to see their grandchildren and even their grandchildren's children. It's wrong to take that away from them."
Emilia smiled, "People need technology because people, too, are digusting."
Verith was silent.

---

The night before, light spilled through the midnight from the bar, arousing the sleeps of many, including the newly-moved Girisher family, who grew angrier with their housing agent every passing night, it seemed, for The Abdicate was not the quaint inn of their hearing, but an apparent cesspool unto which dignity walked to die. That night, the bar was officially long-closed, however, seven regulars and the owners - Rhys and Rosa - sat around a single wooden table by the front of the establishment, telling mostly-false tales of their lives and provoking hysterics amongst each other. Each was undoubtedly sick with alcohol, but Rosa, the only woman at the bench, was never seen as such. Until this night, she had not once been asked to produce a story of her background. When the question finally came, voices began to silence, and eyes turned her way. The asker, a homeless, pub-crawling nomad by the name of Jumps, wore a smile revealing his crooked, broken and in some cases non-existant teeth, revealing his obtuse dimples and emphasising the redness of his features. His bald head was complimented by an un-tamed beard of considerable length, and his drinks were always on the house.

Rosa simply laughed, "No, no, please. I rather liked where Henry was going with his!"
"But that's all! Can't tell what there's been no more to produce," Henry laughed in response, "Go on!"
Rhys looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She simply shook her head, still smiling.
"C'mon lads, I'm only here to make sure you don't burn down the place. Keep me happy with your tales!"
Jumps laughed harshly, bringing about a wave of goosebumps on Rosa's skin, "No, lass. I aint budgin' 'til ya tell me a story. Come sit on Jumpsy's lap and we can make it more intimate, ifyalike."
The general laughter that ensued seem to confuse her a little. She stood and shook her head, her smile dissolving as she did, "No, thank you. No. I think we'd better call it a night, lads."
Rhys laughed, too, this time, "C'mon, ya stupid woman! He just wants a goddamn story!!"
Rosa kicked the table, "Enough! Out!!"
Suddenly, she felt two hands upon her arm. Within seconds, she was face-down in the lap of some drunken regular, sprawled across several other men all laughing and calling for a 'storytime.'
Frantically, she swung her fist at the face of her assaulter, who suddenly let go. She flung herself up, bringing the table with her, and knocking the men on the other side to their feet. She glared coldly at Rhys and stormed from the room.

Within moments, she had her face buried in the pillow in the room. Her head ached, and she knew she wouldn't make it to the other place in her current condition. She lay for hours, expecting the laughs of the men to die as they were quickly ushered into the street by Rhys. But for hours, the laughing continued as they shared probably more revolting stories. Maybe even Rhys shared one about her. Probably.

When she eventually slept, she dreamt she was Eleanore again.