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Post by Kraft on May 25, 2009 13:22:28 GMT -6
Suddenly people flocked around one of the heavily fortified gates that gave way to the beautiful garden. The gate opened with a lot of racket, disturbing the peaceful silence in the garden for a few moments and causing a score of birds to fly away. Out of the gates the elites came. Dressed in their black uniforms with white stripes, they looked very menacing. They didn't hold an aggresive posture, though and in the hands of these handsome men, the helbards almost didn't look dangerous. After a few of them had exited the inner castle, Kraft appeared in the garden. Surrounded by guards, priests and loyal subjects he started walking towards Saint Elimine's tomb. He kneeled in front of the coffin and kissed it gently. It was dead quiet again. People followed his example, except for the guards and they all prayed. Then, Kraft stood up and waited for the people to follow his example. With a gesture of his hands he told them to continue. Silent chatter and praying ensued once more. It was then that Kraft noticed Richter.
"Ah, Richter Abend, I presume?" Kraft talked softly and looked quizzically at the mercenary. Guards stood next to Richter, in case he tried anything. Richter found himself cornered by Kraft's men. Kraft looked frail and sick and if you saw him, you couldn't believe the rumours that he was responisble for the death of so many anymore. In front of Richter stood a workaholic, who was the Prophet of Elimine and did everything within his power to spread her doctrine.
"Have you learned? Do you now, truely, believe?" Kraft even smiled to Richter! Oh, what a gift!
(OOC: Don't say no, dude. This is Kraft. XD )
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Post by Richter Abend on May 25, 2009 13:44:11 GMT -6
(OoC: I think you think I'm dumb or something...)
Richter stood up and bowed his head slightly. "I do, Prophet," he said. There was no point in any answer but this one in front of the Prophet himself. While he read the good messages the past few days, he also still remembered that the Prophet was once his enemy. He was responsible in part for what happened five years ago, and at least in part what had been going on since. The Prophet also didn't give off that wondrous feeling as did the Herald. He just seemed like an old man. Nevertheless, Richter was working for the Prophet now, and he would show his employer the respect he deserved.
Waiting for the Prophet's cue to sit down, Richter remained standing. Almost nobody got to meet the Prophet, so this was a momentous occasion in that fact alone. "It is an honor to meet you, sir."
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Post by Kraft on May 25, 2009 14:12:50 GMT -6
Kraft smiled at the mercenary. Ah, these young bloods. It was so easy to fool them. Of course it was an honor to meet him. It was usual stuff to hear for Kraft. He gracialy waved at Richter, offering him a seat in front of him. Of course, Richter had a chair of poorer quality of wood and less pretty, but it was a nice seat nonetheless. The guards kept being alert.
"I've heard of your bold statements... I respect that, you've got courage. Now that you see the world our way, it may be time for you to make yourself useful." A clerc suddenly positioned a platter with some simple cheese, sausages and some fruits in front of Kraft. Kraft choose a few drapes and eat them slowly, first peeling the skin off.
"You see... Richter... this world is twisted. It has many, many flaws. I, myself, had so many flaws but I've honestly tried to better myself and to be honest, I think I succeeded. I pray to Saint Elimine every night, every hour, that She has chosen me to fulfill her dream; a united Elibe, where everyone knows her Good Word and where eventually everyone will know peace." Kraft coughed and paused there for a second and wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief. "It's vital that I know what you know and that I know what you're good at. Clearly you're no mindless drone that needs to be thrown into the fray." Kraft smiled and suddenly hurriedly asked Richter the following question;
"Now, I'm a busy man, my dear Richter," and Kraft showed a small smile, that seemed oh so dangerous, "So keep it short."
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Post by Richter Abend on May 25, 2009 15:52:41 GMT -6
Richter furrowed his eyebrows. The Prophet spoke nice words, but there was something about him, especially that final smile. It irked Richter. It brought back all of his suspicions, all of his doubts about Kraft's mission. Kraft seemed dangerous, and his guards seemed ready to kill. Now he realized why the High Inquisitor used the Herald. The Herald was a much better speaker. A converter. Richter had fallen for it. He wouldn't waste this opportunity though.
Richter leaned back in his chair. "I am a good sword fighter with plenty of combat experience," he said. "Anything more than that would be bragging." Richter then leaned forward, and put his hand to his chin, "but I'm sorry, my Lord," said Richter. "What do you mean by, 'what I know?'"
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Post by Kraft on May 26, 2009 13:21:50 GMT -6
Kraft didn't like this man. He wondered why the Herald had told him off him... Oh well, he trusted the Herald's judgement. He was a good man. He coughed once more and wiped a bit of phlegm from his hands with his handkerchief. He threw it on a platter next to him, which was quickly replaced by a new platter with a new, nice smelling handkerchief on it. Kraft didn't like the way the man leaned closer. It was impolite. He decided to ignore it and while closing his eyes and rubbing his temples he answered.
"What I know... Well. Let me tell you a little story... Richter, right? Right. Now, a few years ago. Many years, now I think of it, Saint Elimine was killed. Of course, I wanted to know who did it and why..."
Kraft thought about his question. Hah, it was ridiculous. How could a lowly mercenary like Richter know anything about that ragtag band of riffraff that managed to kill his beloved Saint Elimine? He had bled for her, he had killed for her. It had started with Sergey, but it didn't stop there. Hundreds have fallen for his butchers, thousands more have been tortured and soon hundreds of thousands will bleed like he did. They will obey him, they must. Elibe will become a battleground... But why, why did he ask that question? Ha, he already knew. It was an obsession. There wasn't a day he seeked revenge. If by chance, however small it was, this little... minion, knew anything about the heretics that dit it, then it was worth asking it. Kraft cleared his throat after this long pause of reflecting and forced himself to smile.
"So... do you or do you not know anything about it?"
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Post by Richter Abend on May 26, 2009 15:45:12 GMT -6
Richter paused. This wasn't a passing question. How would he know about St. Elimine's death? The Herald had said something about Heretics, their reasons unknown... Wait...wait a second. Richter's mind flashed back to that day five years ago, when Richter and those other people, those people he had met, were being chased out of Delphia...The Herald had called them the doom of St. Elimine. He could recall it clearly, the Herald's voice was hard to forget. It had anger and hate in it then though. So that's why they had been chased out. They were the traitors! No, he had been among them. He was a traitor as well...How had he gotten this far? Did Kraft know?
"Yes, I know of it..." he replied carefully, sitting back in his chair, hands on his lap. He'd have to play this carefully. Very carefully. He'd also have to play stupid. "I was here when the killers were run out of Delphia. The Herald told us of their villainy, how they butchered St. Elimine. Were they ever captured? Were they killed? Justice be upon them if they were."
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Post by Kraft on May 27, 2009 13:10:10 GMT -6
Suddenly Kraft didn't seem so frail and sick anymore. His cheecks gained colour and his eyes became sharp. He straightend up in his chair and held the arms of his chair, very, very tightly.
"You know of it?" It was almost a whisper, but louder. Some of the soldiers changed posture as well. They felt the eagerness of their master, like loyal dogs. They gripped their helbards tightly. And while these weapons were mostly decoration, they could easily kill. And then Richter continued his answer. Kraft sunk back into his chair. The soldiers loosend up, but they were still alert.
"No, they weren't captured. Once, a group of villagers claimed to have captured them... but they escaped. It was a man called Crowley. Another one called Wylie. They weren't important. They weren't the killers. I hoped to find the true heretics through them..." Kraft's mind seemed to trail off as he reviewed his memories. He had never been friends with any of them... somewhere in that cold heart of his, he still felt slight sympathy for that girl called Alexia... But if she stood here in front of him he would have her killed. He knew no mercy for those sinners.
"No, they were never captured. I have a large reward for any information on them, but sadly..." and he shook his head in a grotesque way, "Everyone seems to be idiotic to catch them." He shook his head again after he said this in a disgusted voice. He then looked at Richter again and his gaze seemed to pierce him.
"Yes. Yes, justice will find them one day. And when it does..." He showed a sadistic grin and the soldiers around him stiffened up. They all heard of the terrible tortures and respective deaths that awaited those that defied the Prophet. Even Hell itself sounded pleasable then. Kraft took another grape from a platter and peeled the skin off. After toying with it he slowly squeezed it, causing a little splatter to fly Richter's way. While staring at Richter with those dark, cold eyes he ate it and chewed it fiercely. Slowly he swallowed and cleared his throat.
"Anyway. Richter. I hope you've learned. The Herald spoke highly of you. Now, if you have anything left to say or to ask, here's your chance. I DON'T give second opportunities." It could've been a hint, but maybe Richter's mind was playing tricks on him. But who knew, it was the High Inquisitor, the man whose dungeons are darker than the deepest cave and far, far more scarier...
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Post by Richter Abend on May 27, 2009 14:43:43 GMT -6
Richter's anger peaked as the High Inquisitor talked of Crowley and Wylie, but he did not let it show. Richter wanted to reach across and strangle the man, but he refrained. He just sat there, calmly. He remembered Crowley. Crowley had given his life so they could escape. To the "Prophet", his life meant nothing. People were just his pawns.
Richter couldn't help but suppress a shudder that went through him when the High Inquisitor smiled. This man was insane. This man was evil. It disgusted Richter. Either the Herald was easily deceived, or really good at hiding his motives. Richter suspected the latter.
While the High Inquisitor was eating, a piece of grape hit Richter in the face. Silently, Richter wiped it off with his little finger. Now came the High Inquisitor's last question, no, command. This was no longer the pleasant conversation it was when it had started out. Richter knew more, but he was not sure if he should share it. If he was going to say something, he had to say enough to been seen as a boon in the High Inquisitor's eyes, but not enough to reveal Richter played a part in the matter.
"My, Lord," he began, "I met them, though I did not gain their names. I had no idea who they were at the time. I was but a simple mercenary traveling through Delphia, looking for a way to make some money." Richter paused. He had to choose his words very carefully. "They seemed to be part of a larger group I saw at port Delphia. There were a few Sacaens, a Lycian knight, and a few others of small import." He rested his hand on his forehead. "I apologize, but I remember no more. There was a large explosion and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the destroyed ruins of the port."
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Post by Kraft on May 31, 2009 13:02:50 GMT -6
Kraft felt energy flushing through his bones, the old flames of revenge clamed his body and he could barely contain it. He clutched to the arms of his chair and he almost looked young and healthy again. Passion did that with a man. This... this Richter... was he a liar? He wouldn't tell lies to the Prophet himself, now would he? He must play it safe... he could not affored to let this man go; the only good option was to throw this man into the dungeon and torture him until he can sing those names. The names of the traitors, their where-abouts, absolutely everything. Kraft stood up and caused a little action by his impulsive movement. A hint of danger filled the air and all around the garden people looked at their Prophet. They had heard of his temper, but he was a Holy Man, and he was scarred by life, they could forgive him. "Richter..." He inhaled, but one could here the tension in his breath, "You are a lia-" And right then, the sounds of gate opening interrupted the Prophet. The Herald walked in, smiling happily, he strolled towards Kraft and looked quizzically at his master's face. He seemed a bit... flushed. Maybe this Richter was an amusing fellow. He bowed for Kraft and sat himself down. "MILORD." And he nodded. Kraft regained his speech and the appearance of his loyal dog seemed to calm him down. Kraft leaned closer to Richter and put his crow-like fingers on the mercenary's shoulder, one could smell the sharp breath of a sick, sick man and the sweet scent of luxury oils. The soft hairs of Kraft's beared barely touch Richter's skin but Kraft's mouth was closer to Richter than it had ever been to any man alive. "Richter. I think you're little liar. And I'll give you one more chance. I'm not fool. Many have lied to me, but in the end, they always sang." He then backed off and smiled at Richter and tapped him on the cheeck with his hand. He sat back and kept staring at Richter, while smiling. He folded his fingers and let his two thumbs make circles around each other. "SO. IT SEEMS YOU TWO GET ALONG?" The Herald smiled. (OOC: No, I'm not using OOC information, Kraft's bluffing, he's paranoid. And the Herald's there to provide you that little edge to get you on the 'bad guys' side. You can choose if you tell him or not. I would prefer the first option No, really you can choose. Sorry for the 'deus ex machina' with the Herald and the long wait. Exams are tough.)
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Post by Richter Abend on May 31, 2009 17:21:48 GMT -6
(OoC: I assumed as much)
Richter did his best to show no fear, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. Fear meant lies. Lies would probably turn into torture or death; probably torture. By this point, it probably didn't matter what he said, he'd still be tortured. Then again, he wasn't sure. Perhaps the Herald would push for him; put Richter in the Prophet's good graces. Richter couldn't be sure though. It was always best to play it safe. Perhaps a little fear would be good here.
Richter bowed his head slightly. "My Lord Prophet, I...I have told you all I know" said Richter. "I apologize if it is not adequate, but I assure you I would with-hold nothing from you. I am a whole heartedly a follower of you and St. Elimine. Your Herald showed me the light." Richter paused and turned to The Herald. "Please, my lord, I assure you I believe." Normally, Richter believed in standing up for yourself. His father had told him to be a man, not a dog. In this case, however, it would be loaded words and a fast tongue that would get him through. So many people had already been killed by the Prophet, what good would one more do?
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Post by Kraft on Jul 25, 2009 7:51:37 GMT -6
(OoC: Back! Hereby I'm posting again. Give me some time to get this thread back on rails, because my internet is extremely shitty and posting is a nasty, long affair.)
Kraft liked the tone of the mercenary. He squirmed and excused himself, just to save his petty life. Grandness and the Heaviness of Responsibilty were things a mere mortal could not carry, but unlike the men around and in front of him, Kraft was a Great Man and a Prophet. His power made him feared and this fear created Truth. People did not lie in his presence, their tongues were reminded of the pains of hundreds before them and so they sang like birds. Their smallness and lack of importance enhanced the progress.
Even though Kraft had directly threatened this mercenary, he had not sung. He had stuck to his own story and had looked fair and honest. But Kraft did not take risks. It was time that the Herald proved his worth once more and where intimidation and the Greatness of the Prophet failed, the Herald must step in.
If this mercenary knew something, and dropped his act for one second, then the Herald will certainly report this to Kraft. And then the mercenary would be off to the dungeons. But right now, he was given the advantage of doubt. The Herald would keep the boy busy.
Looking very tired all of the sudden, Kraft stood up with a grey, sick face and smiled at Richter. "I believe you. I am sorry, but you must understand the importance of that kind of information. I'm sorry if I worried you, or made you fear me... I did not mean it. I am merely tired, so tired of all the sorrow of his world. If only people could see the RIGHT way! A peaceful world. Oh, what a joy it would be..."
He waved his hand in a papal gesture at Richter and with the other hand he ordered one of his servants to help him walk.
"You are dismissed! The Herald will keep you busy..."
Soon only the rattle of the gate could be heared and the songs of birds and the silent prayers of priest, pilgrims and monks. The garden was back to its original, silent state. What a joy to be there! It truely was a wonderful place.
"HOW WAS THE PROPHET TODAY?" The Herald asked Richter, while smiling at his pupil.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 31, 2009 21:58:21 GMT -6
Richter smiled nerviously. He didn't mean to, but he could only keep up his act for so long. He also felt more relaxed around the Herald. It was as if the man had an aura of calmness around him. "I have to admit, it is intimidating to be around his Holiness," said Richter. He let a small sigh out of the side of his mouth. Richter kept it to himself that he thought that the Prophet himself was evil. While he couldn't judge the entire Etrurian church, when he spoke to the Prophet, he knew that the man was cruel, bloodthirsty, and powerhungry. He also kept it to himself that he wanted to get out of this castle as soon as possible. While he'd been told he had a nack for politics, he hated them. He far preferred the straight-forward life of a mercenary to the cunning wiles of an aristocrat. They put his thoughts in a knot. He wanted to fight something. He could almost feel his sword skills getting rusty every minute he stayed in this castle. It made him let his guard down, and Richter liked being alert. It kept him from being surprised.
Richter paused an took in the surroundings. The garden was peaceful and beautiful. Taking a second to calm himself, Richter looked back up at the Herald. "I apologize, milord, the experience was a tad nerve-racking," said Richter. He pointed a hand towards a small table near a rose bush. "Do you mind if he go sit over there?"
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The Herald
Herald
Voice of the Heavens Tyrannical Mouthpiece
"PEACE THROUGH WAR."
Posts: 105
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Post by The Herald on Aug 3, 2009 5:18:30 GMT -6
The Herald nodded in his typical way; very slowly, yet kind and understanding. He followed Richter to the appointed place and sat down, crossing his legs and ordering some tea (once more!) with a sway of his hand.
"THE PROPHET..." The Herald began, "IS A TROUBLED MAN. YOU HAVE NOT KNOWN HIS MISERY. HE IS TORTURED BY HIS MEMORIES. HE HAS SEEN THE DEAD OF OUR SAVIOUR. SURELY YOU CAN FORGIVE HIM IF HE IS HARSH? HE MEANS WELL..."
The Herald's eyes were soft and gleamed in the sun. He wore a rather simple outfit, but with a little silver pendant. Looking at Richter, he saw what he liked. This man could be saved. He could be reformed. He could be made into something far better than he was now. He could become a Champion of Faith. Yes, this man was perfect for it. He believed in a better world, and if he had to use bad means to create a peaceful world, well, so be it. He had the Right Mind, in the Herald's opinion. Richter was a straight-forward guy, who already believed in Universal Truths. It should be easy to make him see that these Universal Truths were something that could be accomplished and installed through the Etrurian Church. But first, Richter must be tested and reformed. And the Herald had a perfect idea.
"RICHTER, THROUGH THAT GATE OVER THERE, WILL COME A MAN. THIS MAN IS IMPORTANT. HE IS A DISCTRICT-HEAD. OF SACAE, MORE PRECISELY. THE WELL BEING OF THE SACAEN SOULS IS HIS JOB, UNFORTUNATELY, MOST OF OUR MISSIONARIES GET KILLED BEFORE THEY GET THE CHANCE TO SHOW THEM THE RIGHTNESS OF OUR WAYS... I REGRET THIS AND PRAY FOR THE BRAVE DEAD EVERY DAY..."
Sadness and regret filled the Herald's eyes and with this troubled look he stared at Richter, only slowly recovering from his sadness. He looked like a kind man, who regretted all the injustice, rape, murder and death in the world. But at the same time he was the Mouth of the Prophet, condemning hundreds to a death sentence. But he believed he was doing the right thing, that in order to bring peace, eggs must be broken and rotten apples must be removed. In the distance the district-head, a burly man, who seemed old, advanced towards Richter. Slightly fat, with a round, bald head and elaborate sideburns, he resembled a flesh-coloured ball with hair on the sides. He was looking depressed, but yet seemed to have a content, happy feeling about him.
"Goodday, Herald." He bowed deeply and smiled briefly at his master. The dog of the Prophet's dog. He was in the middle of the Etrurian importance-pyramid.
"You are Richter, I assume?" He nodded and smiled at him as well. He seemed to be an allright man.
"Saint Elimine be blessed that rightful men still exist! Has the Herald already told you about his proposition, or should I expand on the subject?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 13, 2009 0:08:36 GMT -6
Turing away from the Herald of whom he was so focused on, Richter turned to the newcomer and bowed his head slightly in greeting. "Ah, yes, I'm Richter," he replied. "And you're a district-head? Actually, the Herald was just beginning to tell me. It sounds like I will be escorting missionaries to Sacae, or am I making an assumption off of nothing?" Richter flexed his hand. "I wouldn't mind a little journey if at all possible. It's better than being in this castle all day."
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Post by Kraft on Sept 1, 2009 10:34:12 GMT -6
(OoC: Would you mind jumping a bit into the future? Let's say you and the district head traveled to Sacae, where you will act as the right hand of the district-head. You'll have around 20 men under your command. You will be near Sacae and Ostia. Sounds like deal? Let me know and I'll make a new thread in Sacae, I'll just post the district-head's explanation here. Sorry for being offline for so long again. I wish I could make it up to you!)
Richter had no choice. He had to submit to the Herald's will. After exchanging pleasantries, the Herald gave Richter a little gift. It was the original learnings of Saint Elimine. Kraft's doctrine wasn't added yet. It told lessons about peace and love, justice and understanding and all in all was a guide to a better world. The Herald had told Richter that he felt it was too soon to let Richter leave, but that he saw that he had no choice. Richter was a fighter. No, he was a defender. A defender of the weak and the injustice in the world. This is why he had to go. The district-head told Richter all while travelling. He was responsible for the conversion of the Sacaens in the southwest region of the land, near Ostia. The nomads weren't very numerous there, but they were fierce and unforgiving. While they knew honour, they saw Kraft's (and Elimine's) doctrine as a threat and had the habit of killing those who tried to hard to show them the Right Way. Etruria had reacted by increasing the troops sent to Sacae.
A while later, nothing was left of Richter in Kraft's memory except a little note on his desk from the District-Head of the Southwestern Region of Sacae.
"Hail Prophet, most zealous and glorious one,
We have arrived at our Headquarters. We noticed our numbers have dwindled after my departure to our most glorious capital. New Officer, Richter Abend is an excellent soldier, the Herald was right in choosing him. I have learnt that the Herald will send him another letter. Detailed reports will follow. All is in place for other happenings you told me about. We could use more men, but we do not doubt your wisdom.
Infinite gratitude,
Albert Ziaka."
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