Assasination
The doors to the cathedral imploded. Another explosion rattling the foundations of the Imperial city. Fire, terror, screams coursed through the urban metropolis. Swords clashing against sword and bullets snapping against bone fought against the divine words of the liturgy. The choir sang in heavenly song, their voices declaring the divine mysteries in glorious symphony. In the pale, beyond the church walls, danced flames and blood as the Varangians cut their way through the breech. They cleaved and hewn, raising their battles axes high and low. Skull shattered and flesh parted as they forced their way on to holy ground.
“HALT!” Commander Ballis ordered in thick Norse. The guard, tall and fearsome stepped over the rubble of the door. His men snapped to obedience quickly inhibiting their battle rage. “Form lines!” In a swift lunge, the twenty or so Varangians pulled together forming two tidy rows facing the altar of the Church. The time was now midday, and Ballis had been fighting since sunrise. He could hear the heavy breathing of his men, he could smell their exhaustion and desire for this battle to end.
The cathedral shuddered, a stray artillery shell impacting the southern tower. “Ballis?” A slim, smooth hand clasped the warriors shoulder from behind. “Can you see my father?”
“Yes, he is in the tabernacle. praying”
“Then, finally we're here.”
“Finally.” The warrior agreed. “Don't underestimate him, you're not the first boy to run after his throne.” Ballis smiled an encouragement. “Bring us freedom Alexander.” The heavy guardsmen stepped to one side, revealing a young man, slender, no more than fifteen years of age. He walked forwards in a shy confidence as the congregation continued to sing in glory. Their voices rose and fell with Alexanders emotions, his fears and hopes. He could see his father now as the patriarch emerged from the holy of holies. He paused, and waited for his son.
Alexander could see the anger in his fathers eyes. The furious hatred that circled in his soul, the indignation, the hunger for retribution all were there. Alexander felt shame that their relationship had come to this. Grasping the hilt of his sword, the young prince found strength and continued his march. His father did nothing. Patriarch and emperor, he remained motionless, standing stoically in robes of finest white. Like a grandfather of humanity, the emperor radiated glorry, a divine intimidation that struck fear into the hearts of man.
Alexander refused to cower this time. His muscles tightened rebelling against the nervous spasms that rocked his courage. His father smirked as he saw his sons hand shake. Alexander could see the taste of victory lighting in his father eyes. In an act of pity, the emperor raised his right hand the one baring the signet of Christ. One last chance for forgiveness. Alexander was surprised at the opportunity. All he had to do was kiss his father's ring and all could be forgiven. One last chance for everything to return to the way it was.
No Alexander decided. This would end. He continued, now only fifteen steps from the dias. He drew his sword, his father lowered his hand and a gunshot erupted. . .
OOC: Players may post a member in the congregation. Please, only use characters you are prepared to lose. As expected my threads have plenty of collateral damage and they are always entirely open for anything to happen. Reaction to the civil unrest is always welcome. After this, cathedral incident there will be time enough to rp so we can flesh out my nation a little more. Much obliged.
The doors to the cathedral imploded. Another explosion rattling the foundations of the Imperial city. Fire, terror, screams coursed through the urban metropolis. Swords clashing against sword and bullets snapping against bone fought against the divine words of the liturgy. The choir sang in heavenly song, their voices declaring the divine mysteries in glorious symphony. In the pale, beyond the church walls, danced flames and blood as the Varangians cut their way through the breech. They cleaved and hewn, raising their battles axes high and low. Skull shattered and flesh parted as they forced their way on to holy ground.
“HALT!” Commander Ballis ordered in thick Norse. The guard, tall and fearsome stepped over the rubble of the door. His men snapped to obedience quickly inhibiting their battle rage. “Form lines!” In a swift lunge, the twenty or so Varangians pulled together forming two tidy rows facing the altar of the Church. The time was now midday, and Ballis had been fighting since sunrise. He could hear the heavy breathing of his men, he could smell their exhaustion and desire for this battle to end.
The cathedral shuddered, a stray artillery shell impacting the southern tower. “Ballis?” A slim, smooth hand clasped the warriors shoulder from behind. “Can you see my father?”
“Yes, he is in the tabernacle. praying”
“Then, finally we're here.”
“Finally.” The warrior agreed. “Don't underestimate him, you're not the first boy to run after his throne.” Ballis smiled an encouragement. “Bring us freedom Alexander.” The heavy guardsmen stepped to one side, revealing a young man, slender, no more than fifteen years of age. He walked forwards in a shy confidence as the congregation continued to sing in glory. Their voices rose and fell with Alexanders emotions, his fears and hopes. He could see his father now as the patriarch emerged from the holy of holies. He paused, and waited for his son.
Alexander could see the anger in his fathers eyes. The furious hatred that circled in his soul, the indignation, the hunger for retribution all were there. Alexander felt shame that their relationship had come to this. Grasping the hilt of his sword, the young prince found strength and continued his march. His father did nothing. Patriarch and emperor, he remained motionless, standing stoically in robes of finest white. Like a grandfather of humanity, the emperor radiated glorry, a divine intimidation that struck fear into the hearts of man.
Alexander refused to cower this time. His muscles tightened rebelling against the nervous spasms that rocked his courage. His father smirked as he saw his sons hand shake. Alexander could see the taste of victory lighting in his father eyes. In an act of pity, the emperor raised his right hand the one baring the signet of Christ. One last chance for forgiveness. Alexander was surprised at the opportunity. All he had to do was kiss his father's ring and all could be forgiven. One last chance for everything to return to the way it was.
No Alexander decided. This would end. He continued, now only fifteen steps from the dias. He drew his sword, his father lowered his hand and a gunshot erupted. . .
OOC: Players may post a member in the congregation. Please, only use characters you are prepared to lose. As expected my threads have plenty of collateral damage and they are always entirely open for anything to happen. Reaction to the civil unrest is always welcome. After this, cathedral incident there will be time enough to rp so we can flesh out my nation a little more. Much obliged.