The farmer, following Tyrone's lead, grabbed hold of one of Jacob's arms just to make sure he didn't try to bolt into the crowd. The farmer hated running - he'd much rather just hold fast to this young scamp's wiry frame and make sure that he came to whatever punishment he was deemed to deserve by the Holy Men of the Cloth. This hand, the one that held onto Jacob's arm, was very large, and it held on with the sort of grip one might expect from an iron vice or steel cinch, not from flesh and bones. "C'mon," he said gruffly and unecessarily for Jacob had already begun walking.
In the stockade, the criminal gave a deep sigh of relief. Sorry, boyo. I owe you one, he thought to himself while doing his best to memorize his face in case he managed to survive so that he might repay the debt of not being stoned to death in the square infront of a crazed crowd.
For Petros and Tyrone, moving through the people was simple. They stepped out of the way quite ready for an extra spectacle. It was a bloodthirsty group, and they would get their fill from whoever offered. "MEAT PIES! Get your hot meat pies here!"
Behind the moving group was a young woman who's heart raced with shock and fear as Petros, the nice young acolyte she'd met the night prior, transformed into a maniacle beast bent on killing an innocent man. She gathered her cloak around her shoulders and followed them in their path to the gallows, her eyes wildly watching as those around her screamed for the blood of the sinner. Oh! Dominicus! Please! Stop this! She was terrified of trying to save him, but she couldn't leave... she couldn't leave not knowing what was his fate.
Above them all was the raised platform of the gallows, and standing upon it was the Town Crier, announcing the many crimes of the pirate they were about to hang. These varied from murder to tax evasion and failure to pay tithes. Behind this large platform there was an executioner wearing a black robe and holding onto a rope which was tied around the wrists of an aging pirate of medium build wearing a good many tattoos. He'd been stripped down to under shorts and his once long mane of black hair had been shaved. He stared at the gallows with hollow eyes. He was a man facing his own demise, and he did so with a raised chin.
There were a few guards standing around, but none of them would attempt to stop the movements of the clergymen and those who traveled with them. The Crier's voice slowed as he watched the small procession, but he didn't let him phase him too much as he continued on with the list of sins that the pirate had refused to confess to.
Sinner's Square - Hanging of Theo the Pirate - Jy 31st MT
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Jacob Rimon
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Jacob kept walking as the farmer held him tight. He ignored anything he spoke to him. He ignored the words of Petros and Tyrone. He kept his eyes on the looming gallows ahead of him, in particular on the figure of the pirate that had been dragged out. He listened to the litany of crimes, but didn't really register. The voices weaved into a vague background noise as he stared up at the figure and contemplated his own fate.
Jacob was not thinking of running. He was thinking of witnessing whatever he was made to bear witness to, to do so passively and calmly. And to concentrate on finding any weaknesses in this trap. A smile played across his face for a flicker as he doubted the odds of his carpentry being any use now - the chances of being able to detect some sort of weakness in the gallows structure, or to be able to wield some sort of improvised wooden plank as a weapon seemd laughable.
And with little else to do as he approached the gallows, with death a very real possibility, with little chance of escape, Jacob smile broke into a laugh, if only momentarily. Then it settled back into a smile, even as those that walked with him reacted.
Jacob was not thinking of running. He was thinking of witnessing whatever he was made to bear witness to, to do so passively and calmly. And to concentrate on finding any weaknesses in this trap. A smile played across his face for a flicker as he doubted the odds of his carpentry being any use now - the chances of being able to detect some sort of weakness in the gallows structure, or to be able to wield some sort of improvised wooden plank as a weapon seemd laughable.
And with little else to do as he approached the gallows, with death a very real possibility, with little chance of escape, Jacob smile broke into a laugh, if only momentarily. Then it settled back into a smile, even as those that walked with him reacted.
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If Tyrone have heard the silent argument inside Petros' mind, the dark achadhiel would have rejoiced and laughed out loud gleefully, rejoicing in the triumph of the Grace and Wisdom of the One God over the misguided notions of this young acolyte. Truth! Yes, truth shall prevail and only the Truth shall set everyone free from this twisted and ridiculous dogma of Dominicus loving the sinners, pagans, heathens and heretics! Absurd! The young Novitiate Monk of the Purificatio harrumphed indignantly to himself as he walked forward behind the carpenter and heard Petros persisted on his zealous wrath against the heretic carpenter. Oh, how the Jackal approved and with pure malice upon his gray, fanatic eyes, he watched the wicked face of his Brother Petros taunt Jacob and his heart was satisfied.
But not yet... The Jackal growled and smiled a small malicious grin, watching Petros confidently led the small procession forward. Not yet...
"Brother Petros!" Tyrone cried, seemingly aghast and appalled at the actions of the younger acolyte, letting him clearly see the seeming disgusted look etched upon his dark achadiel face. "How can you be so cruel against this sinner? Clearly, you have judged him already when it is only Dominicus' right to judge!" Oh, how Tyrone prayed that it would push the younger acolyte to the verge of confusion and self doubt. The Jackal needed to completely remove the trace of that ridiculous dogma from Brother Petros and show him the true path to Dominicus. He did not care for this carpenter, truly, his soul was a lost cause, marked by the hand of Dominicus Himself to perpetually burn in the deepest pit of the Nether Hell. But, Petros' soul, that was another matter. His was worth saving than the rotting soul of the carpenter. "Of course, this sinner deserves to die, but to taunt him is almost a slap in the face! How could you be so heartless?" He then turned his face away from the younger acolyte and smiled a small grin full of dripping malice.
Seeing the farmer walked with them, Tyrone nodding his appreciation at the farmer he had met yesterday at the Vigilent's Gate and murmured a small blessing at him. "Surely, brother, Dominicus smiles upon your zealous faith and vigilance. I tell you, today, you have earned yourself a place in paradise."
He almost laughed out loud when Tyrone heard Jacob chuckled. Oh, this is rich! The Jackal was merely using him as an instrument for Petros so that he could see the true light of the One God. Whatever or however way the carpenter acted, the dark achadhiel could twist it, but then, Jacob was already damned, so his minute actions and deeds were already wicked and evil anyway.
"See how this sinner mocks a man of the One Church!" Tyrone continued his walk and wailed out loud, letting Petros hear his seemingly grief stricken voice. "How he laughs at the piousness of my Brother Petros here, mocking him, thus, mocking the One Church and the Sanctity of the One God, Dominicus!" Sobbing out loud and tearing at his hair, he wailed once more: "Oh, may Dominicus forgive his trespasses against my Brother Petros who only wanted him to be saved, but, what did he repay my brother, this sinner, this heretic mocked and laughed at his face, it was is if my brother was slapped in the face!" With that, he took his whip and started lashing his back, the loud sound of the whip hitting flesh cracked around and Tyrone bowed his head and moaned in profound pain, yet despite that, he smiled a small wicked grin. Oh, the pain was of no moment, he would gladly whip himself a thousand lashes in order to bring Petros to the true light and understanding of Dominicus and if Jacob would look at Tyrone's face, he would see the dark achadhiel looking back at him, and although his face was full of pain, there lingered a fanatic, chuckling madness directed at him. "I grieve for my Brother Petros!" And the whip cracked once more as he moaned loudly with profound pain.
Upon their approach of the gallows, the Jackal looked at the Crier and cried out: "We wish to speak to the Pirate!"
But not yet... The Jackal growled and smiled a small malicious grin, watching Petros confidently led the small procession forward. Not yet...
"Brother Petros!" Tyrone cried, seemingly aghast and appalled at the actions of the younger acolyte, letting him clearly see the seeming disgusted look etched upon his dark achadiel face. "How can you be so cruel against this sinner? Clearly, you have judged him already when it is only Dominicus' right to judge!" Oh, how Tyrone prayed that it would push the younger acolyte to the verge of confusion and self doubt. The Jackal needed to completely remove the trace of that ridiculous dogma from Brother Petros and show him the true path to Dominicus. He did not care for this carpenter, truly, his soul was a lost cause, marked by the hand of Dominicus Himself to perpetually burn in the deepest pit of the Nether Hell. But, Petros' soul, that was another matter. His was worth saving than the rotting soul of the carpenter. "Of course, this sinner deserves to die, but to taunt him is almost a slap in the face! How could you be so heartless?" He then turned his face away from the younger acolyte and smiled a small grin full of dripping malice.
Seeing the farmer walked with them, Tyrone nodding his appreciation at the farmer he had met yesterday at the Vigilent's Gate and murmured a small blessing at him. "Surely, brother, Dominicus smiles upon your zealous faith and vigilance. I tell you, today, you have earned yourself a place in paradise."
He almost laughed out loud when Tyrone heard Jacob chuckled. Oh, this is rich! The Jackal was merely using him as an instrument for Petros so that he could see the true light of the One God. Whatever or however way the carpenter acted, the dark achadhiel could twist it, but then, Jacob was already damned, so his minute actions and deeds were already wicked and evil anyway.
"See how this sinner mocks a man of the One Church!" Tyrone continued his walk and wailed out loud, letting Petros hear his seemingly grief stricken voice. "How he laughs at the piousness of my Brother Petros here, mocking him, thus, mocking the One Church and the Sanctity of the One God, Dominicus!" Sobbing out loud and tearing at his hair, he wailed once more: "Oh, may Dominicus forgive his trespasses against my Brother Petros who only wanted him to be saved, but, what did he repay my brother, this sinner, this heretic mocked and laughed at his face, it was is if my brother was slapped in the face!" With that, he took his whip and started lashing his back, the loud sound of the whip hitting flesh cracked around and Tyrone bowed his head and moaned in profound pain, yet despite that, he smiled a small wicked grin. Oh, the pain was of no moment, he would gladly whip himself a thousand lashes in order to bring Petros to the true light and understanding of Dominicus and if Jacob would look at Tyrone's face, he would see the dark achadhiel looking back at him, and although his face was full of pain, there lingered a fanatic, chuckling madness directed at him. "I grieve for my Brother Petros!" And the whip cracked once more as he moaned loudly with profound pain.
Upon their approach of the gallows, the Jackal looked at the Crier and cried out: "We wish to speak to the Pirate!"
Last edited by Tyrone on Fri Nov 28, 2008 5:48 pm, edited 2 times in total.
As the young man laughed his righteous rage Tyrone interjected and rebuked the man for mocking Jacob. Petros stopped moving and hence stopped the procession for a moment he turned to look at the monk. His face shocked him for it was full of disgust. But this is what he wanted? WHY? The face of the younger man had gone from a grin to a confused frown. Love show love. Remember, compassion. Petros did not understand what was going on? His confusion was obvious on his face. The One requires justice, stand your ground! Petros faltered he did not know what to do. One are you there? Help me.
In his confused state Petros spoke. It was not the confident voice that had spoken before, nor the voice of a fanatic, instead it was the voice of one who was lost. This person did not know where to go or what to do, he was empty and he was looking for someone to fill him, someone to tell him what to do. "Brother Tyrone" it was very weak "I mean no offense to the One, I am trying to follow his way. I do not know how. Will you help me?" Then the young man spoke again the voice of the fanatic this time came forth. "He has been judged I am carry out the will of the One. Why do you question me?" Then again weakly "I am unsure what is right. Tell me Brother what would you have me do? What is the will of the One."
The laugh came from Jacob and Petros again was filled with anger. he defiles the One
Petros was glad that Tyrone stood up for him, he needed it after all he was still unsure what to do what was going on. This man not once, but twice this very day has blasphemed against the One, he has already been judged! Death the answer is death. Petros now spoke, he was somewhat emotional "I have sinned in my doubt. I am unworthy, Tyrone I will do what you say." Tyrone had started to whip himself, but he did not deserve this. The young man walked back to him, and attempted to grab his hand. "This whip is not for you today, it is for me. whip me, for I deserve this punishment."
After Tyrones response the group would continue up to the stage where Tyrone would issue his request.
In his confused state Petros spoke. It was not the confident voice that had spoken before, nor the voice of a fanatic, instead it was the voice of one who was lost. This person did not know where to go or what to do, he was empty and he was looking for someone to fill him, someone to tell him what to do. "Brother Tyrone" it was very weak "I mean no offense to the One, I am trying to follow his way. I do not know how. Will you help me?" Then the young man spoke again the voice of the fanatic this time came forth. "He has been judged I am carry out the will of the One. Why do you question me?" Then again weakly "I am unsure what is right. Tell me Brother what would you have me do? What is the will of the One."
The laugh came from Jacob and Petros again was filled with anger. he defiles the One
"See how this sinner mocks a man of the One Church!" Tyrone continued his walk and wailed out loud, letting Petros hear his seemingly grief stricken voice. "How he laughs at the piousness of my Brother Petros here, mocking him, thus, mocking the One Church and the Sanctity of the One God, Dominicus!"
Petros was glad that Tyrone stood up for him, he needed it after all he was still unsure what to do what was going on. This man not once, but twice this very day has blasphemed against the One, he has already been judged! Death the answer is death. Petros now spoke, he was somewhat emotional "I have sinned in my doubt. I am unworthy, Tyrone I will do what you say." Tyrone had started to whip himself, but he did not deserve this. The young man walked back to him, and attempted to grab his hand. "This whip is not for you today, it is for me. whip me, for I deserve this punishment."
After Tyrones response the group would continue up to the stage where Tyrone would issue his request.
Petros was glad that Tyrone had taken the lead on this for he was still full of self doubt although he no longer doubted the One."We wish to speak to the Pirate!"
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Jacob Rimon
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As words spilt from the mouths of those accompanying him, Jacob felt them pass over him like a soft breeze. At least, that was what Jacob had been hoping. If the murmering noise was music to lull his senses into accepting his fate peacefully, then the sudden bizarre actions of the dark priest were like jarring chords. First he seemed to protest again Petros and his harsh language, then he began to whip himself. Both times Jacob gave Tyrone a glance, the first in surprise and confusion, the second in concern and distaste. Mad, a voice pointed out, quite mad. Madder than priests should be.
They reached the pirate. Jacob looked up once more, looking at the man as if trying to read in the lines of his face, in the cut of his now tattered clothes and in the marks across his skin, what trail of misadventure had led him there. As Tyrone expressed his desire to the Crier of an audience with the condemned man, Jacob turned to look the man in the face, offering him a weak smile.
They reached the pirate. Jacob looked up once more, looking at the man as if trying to read in the lines of his face, in the cut of his now tattered clothes and in the marks across his skin, what trail of misadventure had led him there. As Tyrone expressed his desire to the Crier of an audience with the condemned man, Jacob turned to look the man in the face, offering him a weak smile.
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Thus it begins, O Lord Dominicus! Tyrone exulted in the corner of his fanatic mind. If he could only rejoice in great exultation, he would have done so with his mouth frothing. But he could not and only stared at Petros with gleaming, wicked eyes under the shadows of his cowled hood. Into your hands, O Lord, I commend this new acolyte. Grant that this sacrifice may be acceptable and pleasing to your eyes. With malicious delight, he silently chuckled at his younger brother, profoundly pleased of the confusion clearly apparent upon the young one's face. Like a man watching an amusing entertainment, the Jackal gleefully gazed and listened to the conflict of the younger acolyte, basking at his uncertainty and exquisitely delighted by him. If he could only munch on a few popped corns, a delicacy of World's Mouth, while watching Brother Petros, the day would have been complete. Oh, you are dear to me, Brother Petros, for in your innocence, the One Church shall be united once again. I vow to Dominicus, no harm shall befall thee even if I have to sacrifice a dozen or more sinners in your name just to keep you safe under the wings of the One God.
"Brother," The Jackal exclaimed, turning to his younger acolyte with seeming compassion, his eyes filled with blazing fanaticism. "Doubt you must not the Justice of the One God, for if you doubt Him, you doubt the very existence of the Church and His priests. For is He not a jealous God, full of Wrath and Vengeance? Did He not burn the land of the Pagan Sinners in the North, the Adhiels, and scattered them like ashes in the wind until they are no more? Did He not, in His might and power, buried those wicked pagans alive in the sandy dunes of Amun Rah and entombed them eternally, melting the sands into glass, their groans and supplications to their pagan gods could still be heard up to now and none came, for their gods are creatures of the Nether, wicked and evil and the Lord is the only God and his punishment just and severe. So, you too, as the servant of the Lord, as his priest, must advocate his swift justice. For thus, says the Lord: *In forsaking the King (meaning the law of the land), you forsake The One; and the Holy Texts are here on this- the punishment for such is death."
"No, my brother," Tyrone softly replied, his voice seemingly kind. Oh, believe me, my brother Petros, the day will come when you shall -- with profound pleasure -- take the scourge and deliver the penance, which is pleasing to the Lord, not only upon your own body, but upon the wicked bodies of women, pagans, sinners, heathens and heretics. "I am happy to receive this penance in your behalf, for in this affliction, in this pain, the Lord shall surely turn with pleasing eyes upon you and forever hold you upon His arms. Yes, my beloved Brother in the One Church, united, we shall stand firm and cast away those who scorn the One God into the deepest pit of hell."
Slowly, he turned his wicked eyes back to the Jacob. Oh, you have done a great service to the One Lord, Sinner! The Jackal mused, his fanatic eyes staring at the carpenter's face. A pity, your soul is destined to burn eternally in the deepest pit of the Nether Hell. But, by this great service you have done today, I shall pray a single antiphon for your soul that God, in His unfathomable mercy, shall relent and cast a kinder punishment for you in the Nether Hell.
"Let us then, proceed, Brother Petros," The Jackal, his dark achadhiel hidden under the cowl of his robe, exclaimed out loud and moved forward, stepping up into the platform with full confidence befitting a man of the Church and then turning, he waited for Brother Petros and helped him up the stage. "Let us question this man, this odious pirate, if he truly is a sinner and deserves this righteous punishment!"
"Go on, my son," The Jackal turned back to the Crier and urged him, his voice still loud. "Continue and lists the wicked transgressions this evil pirate has done. The crowd shall surely listen as devout followers of the One, followers who fear the Justice of the One God, and as one, as a congregation who follows the precepts of Church, we shall pronounce the sentence of this evil and malevolent pirate."
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*From the Book of the One: The Chronicle Kieran (The Chronicle of Kieran's Rule)
Brother Petros wrote:"I am unsure what is right. Tell me, Brother, what would you have me do? What is the will of the One."
"Brother," The Jackal exclaimed, turning to his younger acolyte with seeming compassion, his eyes filled with blazing fanaticism. "Doubt you must not the Justice of the One God, for if you doubt Him, you doubt the very existence of the Church and His priests. For is He not a jealous God, full of Wrath and Vengeance? Did He not burn the land of the Pagan Sinners in the North, the Adhiels, and scattered them like ashes in the wind until they are no more? Did He not, in His might and power, buried those wicked pagans alive in the sandy dunes of Amun Rah and entombed them eternally, melting the sands into glass, their groans and supplications to their pagan gods could still be heard up to now and none came, for their gods are creatures of the Nether, wicked and evil and the Lord is the only God and his punishment just and severe. So, you too, as the servant of the Lord, as his priest, must advocate his swift justice. For thus, says the Lord: *In forsaking the King (meaning the law of the land), you forsake The One; and the Holy Texts are here on this- the punishment for such is death."
Brother Petros wrote:This whip is not for you today, it is for me. whip me, for I deserve this punishment.
"No, my brother," Tyrone softly replied, his voice seemingly kind. Oh, believe me, my brother Petros, the day will come when you shall -- with profound pleasure -- take the scourge and deliver the penance, which is pleasing to the Lord, not only upon your own body, but upon the wicked bodies of women, pagans, sinners, heathens and heretics. "I am happy to receive this penance in your behalf, for in this affliction, in this pain, the Lord shall surely turn with pleasing eyes upon you and forever hold you upon His arms. Yes, my beloved Brother in the One Church, united, we shall stand firm and cast away those who scorn the One God into the deepest pit of hell."
Slowly, he turned his wicked eyes back to the Jacob. Oh, you have done a great service to the One Lord, Sinner! The Jackal mused, his fanatic eyes staring at the carpenter's face. A pity, your soul is destined to burn eternally in the deepest pit of the Nether Hell. But, by this great service you have done today, I shall pray a single antiphon for your soul that God, in His unfathomable mercy, shall relent and cast a kinder punishment for you in the Nether Hell.
"Let us then, proceed, Brother Petros," The Jackal, his dark achadhiel hidden under the cowl of his robe, exclaimed out loud and moved forward, stepping up into the platform with full confidence befitting a man of the Church and then turning, he waited for Brother Petros and helped him up the stage. "Let us question this man, this odious pirate, if he truly is a sinner and deserves this righteous punishment!"
"Go on, my son," The Jackal turned back to the Crier and urged him, his voice still loud. "Continue and lists the wicked transgressions this evil pirate has done. The crowd shall surely listen as devout followers of the One, followers who fear the Justice of the One God, and as one, as a congregation who follows the precepts of Church, we shall pronounce the sentence of this evil and malevolent pirate."
[hr][/hr]
*From the Book of the One: The Chronicle Kieran (The Chronicle of Kieran's Rule)
Last edited by Tyrone on Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:28 pm, edited 3 times in total.
[size=75]Avatar from:[url=http://artofphilwohr.blogspot.com/2007/08/redmist-castle-work.html]Phil Wohr[/url]
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[i][b]"Hate thy neighbours for they hate you even more."[/i][/b]
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Posting: Once/week[/size]
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[i][b]"Hate thy neighbours for they hate you even more."[/i][/b]
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Posting: Once/week[/size]
As Tyrone spoke of the wrathful vengeance of the One the soon to be acolyte shook his head. He had not seen it before, but justice was required for righteousness! We must pour justice on the sinners and heathens for the deserve nothing less and the One will not make his abode with those who are in the darkness. Oh Great Lord Dominicus move us to your light, help us do what is right, and purge all the sinners from our midst that we may be with you for all eternity.
"I am sorry for mocking you Jacob." Petros said with a flash of fanaticism "You are a sinner, but the One may yet have mercy on your soul by the purging of your body. As my brother shows the way of penitence is through the pain of justice. You are a great sinner and your pain may yet save you." Petros thought it was marvelous the way Tyrone took his punishment for him someday he would take the pain for himself and maybe for others, but not today, This day Petros was clean by the stripes of Tyrone and the blood that would come from this carpenter.
The soon to be acolyte, now calming down, let Tyrone take the lead. He gladly accepted Tyrone's hand as they climbed the stage. He then turned to make sure the farmer still had a firm grip on Jacob. He put his hand down to help or pull the carpenter onto he stage. There the group stood listening to the crimes of the Pirate waiting for him to emerge onto the main stage so that the Church could have it's justice as he and Tyrone made their questions. And yet there was still a small voice in the back of Petros's head and what if he is not guilty? What then? Will you give the crowd the blood of an innocent man? What if he repents and pledges his life to the One? Can you kill such a man? There was still a struggle going on within the young man it seemed, although no one around him would notice this time because there was no outward sign of this struggle. The louder voice echoed from close to Petros's ear of course he is a sinner, and guilty. He would not be here if he were not. His penitence will come through pain just as Jacobs will, if he follows the One then he will accept this death and his soul may yet be saved. Have hope! The last part was very loud and Petros looked around as he thought maybe he heard a voice somewhere. How come no one else could here this voice? Was it the voice of the One Himself?
"I am sorry for mocking you Jacob." Petros said with a flash of fanaticism "You are a sinner, but the One may yet have mercy on your soul by the purging of your body. As my brother shows the way of penitence is through the pain of justice. You are a great sinner and your pain may yet save you." Petros thought it was marvelous the way Tyrone took his punishment for him someday he would take the pain for himself and maybe for others, but not today, This day Petros was clean by the stripes of Tyrone and the blood that would come from this carpenter.
The soon to be acolyte, now calming down, let Tyrone take the lead. He gladly accepted Tyrone's hand as they climbed the stage. He then turned to make sure the farmer still had a firm grip on Jacob. He put his hand down to help or pull the carpenter onto he stage. There the group stood listening to the crimes of the Pirate waiting for him to emerge onto the main stage so that the Church could have it's justice as he and Tyrone made their questions. And yet there was still a small voice in the back of Petros's head and what if he is not guilty? What then? Will you give the crowd the blood of an innocent man? What if he repents and pledges his life to the One? Can you kill such a man? There was still a struggle going on within the young man it seemed, although no one around him would notice this time because there was no outward sign of this struggle. The louder voice echoed from close to Petros's ear of course he is a sinner, and guilty. He would not be here if he were not. His penitence will come through pain just as Jacobs will, if he follows the One then he will accept this death and his soul may yet be saved. Have hope! The last part was very loud and Petros looked around as he thought maybe he heard a voice somewhere. How come no one else could here this voice? Was it the voice of the One Himself?
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Ashari
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The Crier ignored Tyrone, and his voice, as if it hadn't happened at all. He was quite used to people shouting at him, it came with the job, and as much, he continued to list off the crimes against Theo the Pirate Menace of the feared ship Attica.
Theo, himself, though, looked up at Tyrone's demand, and then, in turn, to the executioner at his side. Just beyond which was his lawyer, who had failed him miserably in proving that he'd not been a pirate. Likely, it was his numerous pirate tattoos that made it a difficult fight. "Get me that man of the cloth, tis me last request, boyo. Ye've done nothin else ta help me," Theo said.
So, the lawyer did as requested, and stepped over to where Tyrone, Petros, Jacob and the Farmer stood together. "Come on then, what have you to offer to a man about to be hung, anyway?" He said to them, but didn't care much for the answer, his attention more toward Jacob as he was being dragged by the large farmer toward the destiny that Petros and Tyrone were creating for him.
Zeynara, in the crowd, watched the unfolding horror, and with welling tears, decided she couldn't see Jacob be killed. Thus, she left, thinking she'd never again see the handsome carpenter. He seemed like such a gentle soul to be lost for nothing. Why! Dominicus, why? For the first time she questioned the god she'd been lead to believe all her life, and ran away from Sinner's Square, bumping into all manner of people on her way, including one Bloody Banner Diana who watched from the relative safety of the edges of the crowd as her beloved Theo prepared to be hung. She caught Zeynara by the shoulders. "Slow down there, girlie, have a breath." The young lady, by then, was crying, and Diana could quite well understand her pain. "Go, get out of here. No place for a lady." And with that Zeynara made her final flee from the courtyard, knocking into anyone else who got in her way without care or pause.
"Fatha," Theo said. "Will ye offer me forgiveness far me sins?" Crystaline blue eyes shone in the morning light, and it was the last saving grace he had. Tyrone, at the least, could prolong the inevitable. Theo did have quite the list of sins to be forgiven for. It was a stab in the dark, but it was worth a try.
Theo, himself, though, looked up at Tyrone's demand, and then, in turn, to the executioner at his side. Just beyond which was his lawyer, who had failed him miserably in proving that he'd not been a pirate. Likely, it was his numerous pirate tattoos that made it a difficult fight. "Get me that man of the cloth, tis me last request, boyo. Ye've done nothin else ta help me," Theo said.
So, the lawyer did as requested, and stepped over to where Tyrone, Petros, Jacob and the Farmer stood together. "Come on then, what have you to offer to a man about to be hung, anyway?" He said to them, but didn't care much for the answer, his attention more toward Jacob as he was being dragged by the large farmer toward the destiny that Petros and Tyrone were creating for him.
Zeynara, in the crowd, watched the unfolding horror, and with welling tears, decided she couldn't see Jacob be killed. Thus, she left, thinking she'd never again see the handsome carpenter. He seemed like such a gentle soul to be lost for nothing. Why! Dominicus, why? For the first time she questioned the god she'd been lead to believe all her life, and ran away from Sinner's Square, bumping into all manner of people on her way, including one Bloody Banner Diana who watched from the relative safety of the edges of the crowd as her beloved Theo prepared to be hung. She caught Zeynara by the shoulders. "Slow down there, girlie, have a breath." The young lady, by then, was crying, and Diana could quite well understand her pain. "Go, get out of here. No place for a lady." And with that Zeynara made her final flee from the courtyard, knocking into anyone else who got in her way without care or pause.
"Fatha," Theo said. "Will ye offer me forgiveness far me sins?" Crystaline blue eyes shone in the morning light, and it was the last saving grace he had. Tyrone, at the least, could prolong the inevitable. Theo did have quite the list of sins to be forgiven for. It was a stab in the dark, but it was worth a try.
[color=#000000][i]"What of the soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?"[/i]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
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Jacob Rimon
- Civus
- Posts: 99
- Joined: Thu Sep 11, 2008 4:00 pm
- Location: King's Court
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Jacob listened to the words Petros spoke to him, and fought to keep the disgust from his face. He could feel anger welling up where previously he'd been prepared to go to his death calmly. Still, he spoke no words as they climbed up onto the stage.
"Ah yes," said Jacob, quietly, "a stage. A fitting place for these theatrics. For this farce." Turning to Petros, the scorn in his voice dripping off every word, he denied the would-be-acolyte his 'good-will'. "Keep your comforting lies, Petros, for they are empty and meaningless. My only sin was to ask a question of two priests who could not agree. If a priest seeks answers it is called religion. If the common man asks questions it is called blasphemy."
Jacob turned towards the crowd, and addressed those nearby. "It seems to me a very exclusive salvation. Those that have been educated to see the light are given clear indications of the road to travel, whilst those of us with no answers stumble blindly in the darkness, and may not so much as call for help. Well, I thank you, brother." Jacob glowered at Petros. "I'm so glad my questions helped you rediscover your path to righteousness as they doomed me, and can only applaud you for recognising that I have nothing better to offer the One - not in all the jahren stretched out before me – than I could by serving as an example to all here now and cutting my life short. Thank you."
Fueled by his anger he turned towards the pirate and addressed him, ignoring everyone else "Tell me, Pirate, one doomed man to another. What do you know of The Eye of Dominicus?"
"Ah yes," said Jacob, quietly, "a stage. A fitting place for these theatrics. For this farce." Turning to Petros, the scorn in his voice dripping off every word, he denied the would-be-acolyte his 'good-will'. "Keep your comforting lies, Petros, for they are empty and meaningless. My only sin was to ask a question of two priests who could not agree. If a priest seeks answers it is called religion. If the common man asks questions it is called blasphemy."
Jacob turned towards the crowd, and addressed those nearby. "It seems to me a very exclusive salvation. Those that have been educated to see the light are given clear indications of the road to travel, whilst those of us with no answers stumble blindly in the darkness, and may not so much as call for help. Well, I thank you, brother." Jacob glowered at Petros. "I'm so glad my questions helped you rediscover your path to righteousness as they doomed me, and can only applaud you for recognising that I have nothing better to offer the One - not in all the jahren stretched out before me – than I could by serving as an example to all here now and cutting my life short. Thank you."
Fueled by his anger he turned towards the pirate and addressed him, ignoring everyone else "Tell me, Pirate, one doomed man to another. What do you know of The Eye of Dominicus?"
Irregular posting, busy with RL commitments! Sorry![url=http://www.allavatars.com/avatars/showphoto.php?photo=204&size=big&password=0&sort=1&cat=500]Avatar Source[/url]
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Angelique of Siorenn
- Pirate
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:42 pm
Angelique came running straight from the gates, grabbing material left and right as her mind raced. How could she save her brother? As she saw him upon the gallows she halted for the first time, her heart pierced. Theo! This is all my fault. I should have never left you to your own devices.
Angel jumped upon a cart to get a better view, her leather boots allowing an elegant, controlled move, as her long brown jacket with its copper buttons strew behind her like a banner. A floppy brown hat with a plumb white feather drew the attention over her red curls drawn into a pony tail.
The pirate girl tried to remain calm and gain an overview. Where were the guards? Was there a clear path ahead, through the no doubt numerous guards? Where there any horses for a clean escape? It seemed there were two prisoners today. Angelique thought it was probably easier to save both instead of just the one. Her left hand was already on her dagger, the right hand free for some rope swinging or drawing her rapier at her hip.
Waiting for her opening Angel started to shout "Boo, BOO. Down with the priests. They only think of themselves. Who will feed our children?" A bit of a riot wouldn't come amiss. She needed the chaos to save her brother.
Angel jumped upon a cart to get a better view, her leather boots allowing an elegant, controlled move, as her long brown jacket with its copper buttons strew behind her like a banner. A floppy brown hat with a plumb white feather drew the attention over her red curls drawn into a pony tail.
The pirate girl tried to remain calm and gain an overview. Where were the guards? Was there a clear path ahead, through the no doubt numerous guards? Where there any horses for a clean escape? It seemed there were two prisoners today. Angelique thought it was probably easier to save both instead of just the one. Her left hand was already on her dagger, the right hand free for some rope swinging or drawing her rapier at her hip.
Waiting for her opening Angel started to shout "Boo, BOO. Down with the priests. They only think of themselves. Who will feed our children?" A bit of a riot wouldn't come amiss. She needed the chaos to save her brother.
Tyrone listened with most eager delight, almost giddy with pleasure as the Crier continued to list down the transgression of the Pirate. We could see his fanatic eyes gleaming with fanaticism, almost like a young boy listening to his favorite bedtime tale, his head nodding here and there and his face open with gleeful gladness and he crowed loudly at one of the transgression the Crier had noted. Pity, no Carnal Knowledge of Animals! The dark achadhiel gravely mused, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to hear that uttered by the Crier so he could lay an accusing finger at the Pirate. Taking a sidelong glance at the crowd, he prayed with all his heart that one from the crowd could cry out and charge the Pirate of such filthy crime!
But it was not so, although he could see that the crowd was eagerly waiting --as he was-- for the hanging of this sinner, the Acolyte Monk of the Purificatio was disappointed for the lack of charges coming from the onlookers. It was a bit noisy and the young Jackal could clearly see Angelique near the back of the crowd and although he couldn't clearly hear her from the din of the crowd, he clearly approved of her rage and righteous anger against the Pirate.
"Why, we offer release and eternal salvation!" Tyrone declared to the lawyer and turned to look back at his younger brother in the One Church. "Come, Brother Petros, let us listen to the confessions of a damned soul. Do not listen to the words of the Rat!" He frowned at Jacob. "It is clear that he is misguided for it is through the One Church that Truth and Salvation can be found. How can a person be saved when he clearly mocks the priests and servants of Dominicus? He has, from the onset, disparaged your faith, your service and your love to save the sinners and here he is now, still mocking you. It is his own fault that his soul deserves to burn in the deepest pit of Nether Hell. He has denied you thrice! Choose wisely, my brother." He gave Petros an arched look, judging him by the actions he would take and then, with a swirl of his black, tattered robe, he followed the lawyer towards the Pirate.
The Jackal stood before the Pirate and looked down at him with indifferent, fanatic eyes. "I may, sinner." The dark achadhiel replied to the query of the damned man. "Or I may not, only Dominicus can truly cleanse you from your wicked deeds. My brother here," he gestured towards Petros as if introducing him to the Pirate. "My brother here has questions for you, sinner. The salvation of your soul, or perhaps, even your life depends upon you answering truthfully. Is it not written: 'The Truth Shall Set you Free'? Dominicus shall know if you lie to His servants. You may begin, Brother Petros..."
But it was not so, although he could see that the crowd was eagerly waiting --as he was-- for the hanging of this sinner, the Acolyte Monk of the Purificatio was disappointed for the lack of charges coming from the onlookers. It was a bit noisy and the young Jackal could clearly see Angelique near the back of the crowd and although he couldn't clearly hear her from the din of the crowd, he clearly approved of her rage and righteous anger against the Pirate.
"Why, we offer release and eternal salvation!" Tyrone declared to the lawyer and turned to look back at his younger brother in the One Church. "Come, Brother Petros, let us listen to the confessions of a damned soul. Do not listen to the words of the Rat!" He frowned at Jacob. "It is clear that he is misguided for it is through the One Church that Truth and Salvation can be found. How can a person be saved when he clearly mocks the priests and servants of Dominicus? He has, from the onset, disparaged your faith, your service and your love to save the sinners and here he is now, still mocking you. It is his own fault that his soul deserves to burn in the deepest pit of Nether Hell. He has denied you thrice! Choose wisely, my brother." He gave Petros an arched look, judging him by the actions he would take and then, with a swirl of his black, tattered robe, he followed the lawyer towards the Pirate.
The Jackal stood before the Pirate and looked down at him with indifferent, fanatic eyes. "I may, sinner." The dark achadhiel replied to the query of the damned man. "Or I may not, only Dominicus can truly cleanse you from your wicked deeds. My brother here," he gestured towards Petros as if introducing him to the Pirate. "My brother here has questions for you, sinner. The salvation of your soul, or perhaps, even your life depends upon you answering truthfully. Is it not written: 'The Truth Shall Set you Free'? Dominicus shall know if you lie to His servants. You may begin, Brother Petros..."
Last edited by Tyrone on Fri Dec 05, 2008 6:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[size=75]Avatar from:[url=http://artofphilwohr.blogspot.com/2007/08/redmist-castle-work.html]Phil Wohr[/url]
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Ashari
- Moderator & Coordinator Mer Cities
- Posts: 4125
- Joined: Mon Dec 30, 2002 11:31 pm
- Location: Anachronism
Theo's attention was torn between Petros, Tyrone and Jacob, though it was to Jacob that he finally spoke when questioned about the Eye of Dominicus. "I know that it be a strong gaze it holds," he said to the young man, who's situation didn't appear much better than his own. Maybe slightly better, he reasoned.
But as soon as he'd had this thought, it was a very strange thing he heard from the crowd. A woman's voice - a familiar woman's voice. In the same way a fawn could recognize it's mother deer, Theo could pick Angelique's voice from the din of the surrounding voices. Hahahaha. The children! That's a good one, Angel, he couldn't help but laugh, something easily attributed to the growing insanity of being put to death.
For Angelique, looking around in the square, there was a lot of potential for a daring escape. The great white walls of King's Court were in the midst of repair, and the one that bordered the square was in a sad shape. Pullies and cranes hoisted stones for the wall itself, while other larger uncut rocks hung as a balance for the loads that went up on wooden platforms. These now held a stasis, as work had been halted for the hanging, but one cut to a low rope would both send a tumble of rocks spilling loudly in the square, but also launch a great force, perhaps enough to send her flying to the front of the crowd. What she'd do from, there, though, was difficult to guess. The Crier had rode in on a silvery white hores, which was now behind the gallows, not far from where Theo and the other captive awaited their fate.
As to the people around her, they cheered at her comment. Another woman spoke out. "Yeah! What of our clean water? Boooo," the hungry, poor and tired yelled agreements if admonishment toward the church. The One hadn't granted them salvation in this life, would he help in the next? The crowed hissed reproachfully.
Stationed around the square there were few guards. From what Angelique could tell, there were far less than would be normal. Michel, the leader of the King's Army, had called them to do other duties. The Vanguard had been disbanded, at the least for the day. It wasn't these things that would play most favorably for Angelique, though, it was the army of mercenaries that had merged into the crowd pretending to be locals out for the hanging. The leader of their numbers gave a high whistle, and that was when the chaos began.
Gillian's Sweeties pie cart was pushed over, the pies landing on the ground where the feverish citizens grabbed at them, and started throwing the pastries toward the Crier. He was bombarded with all manner of spiced apple and ham and cheese pies, his blue and white livery becoming stained by the onslaught. "Hey! Ahh! NO, STOP THAT!" He commanded, and started waving toward what few guards were around, though the mercenaries were quick to get between them and the rioting crowd.
Theo, grinning, looked at Jacob: "Are you ready for salvation, stranger?"
For Petros and Tyrone, the world around them had erupted in loud noises, shouts against Dominicus and prayers toward heathen idols. Petros was smartly hit by a peach pie to his right shoulder, and the sticky sweet substance oozed down his arm. Tyrone felt the impact of a rotten tomato to his midsection. The wet seeds stuck to his robes. Theo laughed loudly. Thank you, sister!
But as soon as he'd had this thought, it was a very strange thing he heard from the crowd. A woman's voice - a familiar woman's voice. In the same way a fawn could recognize it's mother deer, Theo could pick Angelique's voice from the din of the surrounding voices. Hahahaha. The children! That's a good one, Angel, he couldn't help but laugh, something easily attributed to the growing insanity of being put to death.
For Angelique, looking around in the square, there was a lot of potential for a daring escape. The great white walls of King's Court were in the midst of repair, and the one that bordered the square was in a sad shape. Pullies and cranes hoisted stones for the wall itself, while other larger uncut rocks hung as a balance for the loads that went up on wooden platforms. These now held a stasis, as work had been halted for the hanging, but one cut to a low rope would both send a tumble of rocks spilling loudly in the square, but also launch a great force, perhaps enough to send her flying to the front of the crowd. What she'd do from, there, though, was difficult to guess. The Crier had rode in on a silvery white hores, which was now behind the gallows, not far from where Theo and the other captive awaited their fate.
As to the people around her, they cheered at her comment. Another woman spoke out. "Yeah! What of our clean water? Boooo," the hungry, poor and tired yelled agreements if admonishment toward the church. The One hadn't granted them salvation in this life, would he help in the next? The crowed hissed reproachfully.
Stationed around the square there were few guards. From what Angelique could tell, there were far less than would be normal. Michel, the leader of the King's Army, had called them to do other duties. The Vanguard had been disbanded, at the least for the day. It wasn't these things that would play most favorably for Angelique, though, it was the army of mercenaries that had merged into the crowd pretending to be locals out for the hanging. The leader of their numbers gave a high whistle, and that was when the chaos began.
Gillian's Sweeties pie cart was pushed over, the pies landing on the ground where the feverish citizens grabbed at them, and started throwing the pastries toward the Crier. He was bombarded with all manner of spiced apple and ham and cheese pies, his blue and white livery becoming stained by the onslaught. "Hey! Ahh! NO, STOP THAT!" He commanded, and started waving toward what few guards were around, though the mercenaries were quick to get between them and the rioting crowd.
Theo, grinning, looked at Jacob: "Are you ready for salvation, stranger?"
For Petros and Tyrone, the world around them had erupted in loud noises, shouts against Dominicus and prayers toward heathen idols. Petros was smartly hit by a peach pie to his right shoulder, and the sticky sweet substance oozed down his arm. Tyrone felt the impact of a rotten tomato to his midsection. The wet seeds stuck to his robes. Theo laughed loudly. Thank you, sister!
[color=#000000][i]"What of the soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?"[/i]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
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Angelique of Siorenn
- Pirate
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:42 pm
Angelique reached into the pocket of her breeches, jingling the small change that was in there as she considered the route to take, adding a cry of "It is all the fault of these priests, picking on the poor" to the growing chaos.
With a sudden narrowing of her eyes she noticed a most peculiar thing. Rogues know the movements of rogues and she could swear there was a concerted movement in the crowd, as if some kind of robbery or mutiny was going on, key muscled men going forward when suddenly...
As the pies rolled over the ground into the mud and the priests of the One became target practice, Angelique did not waste another flicker, moving forward through the distracted crowd to the crane. Something else was going down and with luck nobody was paying attention to the lithe girl and the poor convicts. Decisively she cut the low rope that held the construction in balance, her right hand holding on to the higher part of the rope and giving it a big swing, letting go as it went to its highest, furthest point. Using her momentum and her experience she attempted landing in front of the gallows that hopefully was now partially cleared from the crowds as guards attempted to reach the fallen cart. Rushing up she drew her rapier, moving in between Theo and his captors, waving it threateningly in front of the soiled priests in the hope they'd fall backwards down from the wooden construction, cowering from fear. Surprise and speed were her friends.
"Theo, the horse," Angel yelled midstride, indicating the pretty white horse of the Crier standing nearby "You've overstayed your welcome, lad. Time we be leaving."
With a sudden narrowing of her eyes she noticed a most peculiar thing. Rogues know the movements of rogues and she could swear there was a concerted movement in the crowd, as if some kind of robbery or mutiny was going on, key muscled men going forward when suddenly...
As the pies rolled over the ground into the mud and the priests of the One became target practice, Angelique did not waste another flicker, moving forward through the distracted crowd to the crane. Something else was going down and with luck nobody was paying attention to the lithe girl and the poor convicts. Decisively she cut the low rope that held the construction in balance, her right hand holding on to the higher part of the rope and giving it a big swing, letting go as it went to its highest, furthest point. Using her momentum and her experience she attempted landing in front of the gallows that hopefully was now partially cleared from the crowds as guards attempted to reach the fallen cart. Rushing up she drew her rapier, moving in between Theo and his captors, waving it threateningly in front of the soiled priests in the hope they'd fall backwards down from the wooden construction, cowering from fear. Surprise and speed were her friends.
"Theo, the horse," Angel yelled midstride, indicating the pretty white horse of the Crier standing nearby "You've overstayed your welcome, lad. Time we be leaving."
Last edited by Angelique of Siorenn on Sun Dec 07, 2008 4:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
And then there was a riot!
Oh, he was hurt, more than he could possibly bear at the sight of the crowd against the church. How could they! How could His creatures abandon Him so and desperately trying to accuse Him, Him the only creator, of negligence against his creation! Who were they to do so?! Who where they to question the Wisdom of the One God?!
There he stood, breathing heavily, dire wrath and anger washing him at such chaos before him, looking down with pure anger at the crowd and he did not flinch nor stepped aside to dodge the incoming produce that was aimed at him and soiling his black, tattered clothes. They all deserve to die and burn in the Nether Hell!
It was another sight that caused him more pain that the Jackal could ever, ever bear. Stunned, breathing heavily, eyes wide with surprise, the young, dark achadhiel saw her flying above the crowd and stumbling right upon them as if an avenging angel from the heavens. He stepped back a moment, out of fear, out of surprisement to beheld the woman with an incredulous look. But, when her intentions were apparent, the Jackal felt as if he was slapped out of his slumber, punched out of his reverie of her and he felt a deep anger that he had never felt before.
But there was another emotion that stirred within him, it was the sight of her that caused him more pain than he could ever feel. Though anger and divine wrath brewed inside of him like a witch's cauldron, the Jackal could not help feel his loins tightening at the sight of her, at her luscious and tempting body, and he felt ashamed that he could ever feel this away on a lowly female person and an abomination for that matter, an achadhiel, a mixture of two races, one of which was a race of pure pagan blood. Oh, she was a witch, a temptress, a harlot, taunting him with her body but with God as his shield, he would never be tempted, despite the hardness on his loins.
With a minute, graceful gesture, the Jackal raised his hand to stop Petros from moving, fearing for his safety. "Protect yourself, Brother Petros. Shield your eyes away from this harlot witch and let me handle her." Breathing heavily with anger, the Jackal eyed Angelique under the cowl of his hood and slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand to unclasp the front button that held his robe together and with a small rustle, it fell down to reveal his semi-naked body, his ebony skin covered with lashing scars. Clad merely with a loincloth, on which Angelique could plainly see his apparent hardness, the Jackal moved ever so carefully, gracefully, like a predatory cat, his hands low as he circled the woman looking for an opening, looking at her with a mixture of profound hate and overwhelming lust.
"You will not take him so easily," Tyrone growled and then lunged forward at her with only his bare hands, trying to dodge against her attack if need be, looking for a way to grapple and disarm her.
Oh, he was hurt, more than he could possibly bear at the sight of the crowd against the church. How could they! How could His creatures abandon Him so and desperately trying to accuse Him, Him the only creator, of negligence against his creation! Who were they to do so?! Who where they to question the Wisdom of the One God?!
There he stood, breathing heavily, dire wrath and anger washing him at such chaos before him, looking down with pure anger at the crowd and he did not flinch nor stepped aside to dodge the incoming produce that was aimed at him and soiling his black, tattered clothes. They all deserve to die and burn in the Nether Hell!
It was another sight that caused him more pain that the Jackal could ever, ever bear. Stunned, breathing heavily, eyes wide with surprise, the young, dark achadhiel saw her flying above the crowd and stumbling right upon them as if an avenging angel from the heavens. He stepped back a moment, out of fear, out of surprisement to beheld the woman with an incredulous look. But, when her intentions were apparent, the Jackal felt as if he was slapped out of his slumber, punched out of his reverie of her and he felt a deep anger that he had never felt before.
But there was another emotion that stirred within him, it was the sight of her that caused him more pain than he could ever feel. Though anger and divine wrath brewed inside of him like a witch's cauldron, the Jackal could not help feel his loins tightening at the sight of her, at her luscious and tempting body, and he felt ashamed that he could ever feel this away on a lowly female person and an abomination for that matter, an achadhiel, a mixture of two races, one of which was a race of pure pagan blood. Oh, she was a witch, a temptress, a harlot, taunting him with her body but with God as his shield, he would never be tempted, despite the hardness on his loins.
With a minute, graceful gesture, the Jackal raised his hand to stop Petros from moving, fearing for his safety. "Protect yourself, Brother Petros. Shield your eyes away from this harlot witch and let me handle her." Breathing heavily with anger, the Jackal eyed Angelique under the cowl of his hood and slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand to unclasp the front button that held his robe together and with a small rustle, it fell down to reveal his semi-naked body, his ebony skin covered with lashing scars. Clad merely with a loincloth, on which Angelique could plainly see his apparent hardness, the Jackal moved ever so carefully, gracefully, like a predatory cat, his hands low as he circled the woman looking for an opening, looking at her with a mixture of profound hate and overwhelming lust.
"You will not take him so easily," Tyrone growled and then lunged forward at her with only his bare hands, trying to dodge against her attack if need be, looking for a way to grapple and disarm her.
Last edited by Tyrone on Sun Dec 07, 2008 5:21 pm, edited 5 times in total.
After Jacob had joined them on stage he made an argument that touched at the strings of Petros’s heart. The poor, you are the servant of Dominicus by being a servant of the poor. How is it then that you condemn any to death? The voice spoke it was strong and the young man wanted to believe it. Again with animosity the second voice sounded inside of him. He knows not the truth of the Once Church, it is through this death that the One will be best served. It was almost as an echo to this thought that Tyrone then responded, and before Petros could do anything The Pirate and Jacob had their interchange as the small group drew close to Theo. It was at this point that Tyrone charged the not even an acolyte to here the sins of this man and to decide his fate.
As a new bout of internal struggle started in Petros, about life and death and the man he now must face, all hell broke loose. The young man was unsure about what was going on. He heard Theo laugh then the sounds of things being over turned. As he looked out at the crowd he saw a women flying toward them. Petros was so in shock at the noise that he didn’t even notice when the pie hit him. The woman came forward with her sword, but Petros was unafraid for two reasons. He was not really holding this person prisoner so what did he have to fear? And two he was confident that Tyrone would protect him. The monk had said so himself and seemed to be repeating this notion as the woman took the stage.
Tyrone moved forward and as he did so Petros took a step backward toward Theo. You can do the right thing, now you can be His voice The young man turned toward Theo the woman and Tyrone going at it behind him, and he leaned in close to the pirate. “It seems you may leave this place today yet, and you may no longer wish it, but know that if you are truly sorry, your sins are forgiven you. I, as a member of the Church of the One, assure you of this. Now go and sin no more.†The young man was unsure of what this was going to accomplish on the grand scale of things, but he felt it was an important thing to say. Forgiveness is for all who ask for it. Petros had said this quickly and quietly his hope being that only Theo would hear him.
The acolyte, for that is what he was, turned back to see Tyrone charging the woman with the sword and the woman bearing down on him. Petros retrieved his knife from under his robes, and turned his head to look out into the crowd to try and get an idea of what was going on. After he did this he would try to approach the woman from behind as Tyrone was parrying with her to the front maybe he could catch her off guard. Petros would make no aggressive motions to stab this woman but was going to attempt to hold her at knife point from behind. If she turned toward him he would back away and try to dive or dodge out of the way of any on coming attacks.
As a new bout of internal struggle started in Petros, about life and death and the man he now must face, all hell broke loose. The young man was unsure about what was going on. He heard Theo laugh then the sounds of things being over turned. As he looked out at the crowd he saw a women flying toward them. Petros was so in shock at the noise that he didn’t even notice when the pie hit him. The woman came forward with her sword, but Petros was unafraid for two reasons. He was not really holding this person prisoner so what did he have to fear? And two he was confident that Tyrone would protect him. The monk had said so himself and seemed to be repeating this notion as the woman took the stage.
Tyrone moved forward and as he did so Petros took a step backward toward Theo. You can do the right thing, now you can be His voice The young man turned toward Theo the woman and Tyrone going at it behind him, and he leaned in close to the pirate. “It seems you may leave this place today yet, and you may no longer wish it, but know that if you are truly sorry, your sins are forgiven you. I, as a member of the Church of the One, assure you of this. Now go and sin no more.†The young man was unsure of what this was going to accomplish on the grand scale of things, but he felt it was an important thing to say. Forgiveness is for all who ask for it. Petros had said this quickly and quietly his hope being that only Theo would hear him.
The acolyte, for that is what he was, turned back to see Tyrone charging the woman with the sword and the woman bearing down on him. Petros retrieved his knife from under his robes, and turned his head to look out into the crowd to try and get an idea of what was going on. After he did this he would try to approach the woman from behind as Tyrone was parrying with her to the front maybe he could catch her off guard. Petros would make no aggressive motions to stab this woman but was going to attempt to hold her at knife point from behind. If she turned toward him he would back away and try to dive or dodge out of the way of any on coming attacks.
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Jacob Rimon
- Civus
- Posts: 99
- Joined: Thu Sep 11, 2008 4:00 pm
- Location: King's Court
- Contact:
OOC: Sorry - really bad internet connection this weekend!
When Theo answered Jacob's question, he felt it almost a relief. The pirate had no answer. It probably meant the ship his father had once travelled on no longer sailed the waves. Jacob and Theo would no doubt be meeting Dominicus, or a close approximation, very shortly. Maybe he'd find his father waiting too.
Then, all too suddenly, the whole world went mad.
Jacob heard a voice calling from the crowd, and had barly begun to turn when the town crier was pelted with food. The carpenter was too close to the man, and the crowd not too accurate at long range, for Jacob not to get splattered as well, but for a moment he thought he might be the target. He quickly tried to crouch down, as to present a smaller target, before turning to see the howling mob. It was then that the words being shouted became clearer, and he realised the tide had turned in his favour. Not only that, but some young woman was storming the stage. Theo's words suggested there was a rescue attempt being made here. As she made her entrance, as dramatic as any entrance he'd imagined of daring pirates, but oh-so-real, Jacob's jaw dropped.
But the odds looked stacked. Mercenaries were taking to the stage, and the priests had pulled out blades. The carpenter was shocked to see Petros wield a knife, holding it hesitantly toward the back of the stranger now facing Tyrone. Jacob would do well to exeunt stage left as quick as possible, with all these weapons being drawn.
And yet...
Ah, moments before it had been as good a day as any to die. The adrenalin still pumped fast around his body, and he had several times considered it time to meet his maker. It seemed that whoever lingered in the afterlife would judge the carpenter free of petty mundane concerns the church paraded around. And Jacob would be meeting that being one day, sure enough. But if he could choose to die in a blaze of glory and pain, rather than jahren hence as an enfeebled man desperately drawing breath, then that's the choice he'd make.
To go out fighting.
Jacob laughed and, with little thought, threw himself at Tyrone - positioned between the girl at the front of the stage and where the pirate and the carpenter waited at the gallows – hoping to launch the both of them into the crowd with his own momentum.
Exeunt stage front!
When Theo answered Jacob's question, he felt it almost a relief. The pirate had no answer. It probably meant the ship his father had once travelled on no longer sailed the waves. Jacob and Theo would no doubt be meeting Dominicus, or a close approximation, very shortly. Maybe he'd find his father waiting too.
Then, all too suddenly, the whole world went mad.
Jacob heard a voice calling from the crowd, and had barly begun to turn when the town crier was pelted with food. The carpenter was too close to the man, and the crowd not too accurate at long range, for Jacob not to get splattered as well, but for a moment he thought he might be the target. He quickly tried to crouch down, as to present a smaller target, before turning to see the howling mob. It was then that the words being shouted became clearer, and he realised the tide had turned in his favour. Not only that, but some young woman was storming the stage. Theo's words suggested there was a rescue attempt being made here. As she made her entrance, as dramatic as any entrance he'd imagined of daring pirates, but oh-so-real, Jacob's jaw dropped.
But the odds looked stacked. Mercenaries were taking to the stage, and the priests had pulled out blades. The carpenter was shocked to see Petros wield a knife, holding it hesitantly toward the back of the stranger now facing Tyrone. Jacob would do well to exeunt stage left as quick as possible, with all these weapons being drawn.
And yet...
Ah, moments before it had been as good a day as any to die. The adrenalin still pumped fast around his body, and he had several times considered it time to meet his maker. It seemed that whoever lingered in the afterlife would judge the carpenter free of petty mundane concerns the church paraded around. And Jacob would be meeting that being one day, sure enough. But if he could choose to die in a blaze of glory and pain, rather than jahren hence as an enfeebled man desperately drawing breath, then that's the choice he'd make.
To go out fighting.
Jacob laughed and, with little thought, threw himself at Tyrone - positioned between the girl at the front of the stage and where the pirate and the carpenter waited at the gallows – hoping to launch the both of them into the crowd with his own momentum.
Exeunt stage front!
Last edited by Jacob Rimon on Tue Dec 09, 2008 2:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Irregular posting, busy with RL commitments! Sorry![url=http://www.allavatars.com/avatars/showphoto.php?photo=204&size=big&password=0&sort=1&cat=500]Avatar Source[/url]
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Ashari
- Moderator & Coordinator Mer Cities
- Posts: 4125
- Joined: Mon Dec 30, 2002 11:31 pm
- Location: Anachronism
OOC: There is a lot going on in this post - make sure you read carefully!
Angelique - all limber muscle and tight form - flew threw the air as if guided by the hand of a higher power. Those in the crowd cheered as her body glided, but for the young woman herself, the sudden pull to her arm was wickedly painful, and sent a jolt up through her shoulder in a sharp pain that suggested any swordfighting she'd be doing better be done leftie. Like a whip, the rope tossed her through the air until reaching the highest arc where she released and continued on her forward momentum until landing infront of the gallows in a clumsy roll. Though it wasn't perfect, the people who watched were amazed at her prowess, and cheered and hooted giving catcalls and wolf whistles her way.
On the wooden face of the gallows the Crier gave a womanly shriek of surprise at the pirate's sudden appearance. His eyes were wide, and he held his proclamation of damnation of Jacob as if it would some how protect him from the acts going on around him, which was further fueled as Tyrone disrobed.
Theo, for his part, was shocked at the events, though, only so far as knowing how protective his sister was of him. Crazy girl, he thought hurriedly as he looked over his shoulder at the Crier's horse. The only thing between him and it was his would-be executioner who was of little trouble now - he was weaponless without his rope. Petros leaned in to him, offering salvation. This was a large surprise for Theo. "Thank ye," he said, and then turned quickly, his bound arms stretching as he slid his wrists under his bottom and stepped through them so that they were in front of him again, rather than behind. From there, the young pirate ran toward the Crier's horse and mounted it swiftly. His executioner stared in wonder.
Giving the horse a sharp kick, Theo watched as the young man he hadn't been introduced to (who had the same fate as him) ran and launched himself at Tyrone. The priest, being busy with his growing erection and need to smite the harlot, didn't hear Jacob's laughter, but he felt the impact as the carpenter slammed into his back and knocked him to the ground, sufficiently pushing the wind from his lungs. As soon as he hit the ground, the Farmer grabbed Jacob by the back of his shirt and tossed him, about five paces away into the crowd, before attempting to help Tyrone up off the ground. For Tyrone, the sensation was quite unlike anything he'd put himself through before. There was no air, his lungs struggled to find their power and remember their pattern was supposed to be, so that he stood in his loincloth, his member swiftly returning to a flaccid state as his body started in the act of self-preservation. His blade, though, remained strong in his hand.
Petros, circling his prey, found that it wasn't easy to get behind Angelique what with all the other activity, and it was almost as if the crowd were working against him, as if trying to help the temptress. As he did so, he could see Jacob's attack, but he was too far away, and then had to watch as Tyrone was slammed into the ground. It wouldn't take him but a few flickers to get back to his side. The priest's tattered robes lay scattered on the ground around his bare feet.
Behind the gallows, Theo spurred the horse forward and around the other side of the platform before riding up right behind and alongside Angelique to pick her up by her belt and pull her onto the horse behind him in one swift movement. He scanned for Jacob, but didn't see him in the mess of the crowd. He'd been lost as much to the pirates as he had been to the clergymen. Sorry, mate. Another time perhaps! He thought, and then dug his heel and the White Horse whinied and ran through a parting crowd. They might have loved a hanging, but they also loved theatrics. The pirates had won this day.
Jacob wasn't free yet. The fall had turned his ankle. It hurt, but it didn't feel broken, likely sprained. He'd have to get out of Sinner's Square without the behemouth Farmer spotting him, nor either of the angry clergymen.
OOC: Angelique, will contact you to see what ideas you have for where Theo and Angel will be off to next!
Angelique - all limber muscle and tight form - flew threw the air as if guided by the hand of a higher power. Those in the crowd cheered as her body glided, but for the young woman herself, the sudden pull to her arm was wickedly painful, and sent a jolt up through her shoulder in a sharp pain that suggested any swordfighting she'd be doing better be done leftie. Like a whip, the rope tossed her through the air until reaching the highest arc where she released and continued on her forward momentum until landing infront of the gallows in a clumsy roll. Though it wasn't perfect, the people who watched were amazed at her prowess, and cheered and hooted giving catcalls and wolf whistles her way.
On the wooden face of the gallows the Crier gave a womanly shriek of surprise at the pirate's sudden appearance. His eyes were wide, and he held his proclamation of damnation of Jacob as if it would some how protect him from the acts going on around him, which was further fueled as Tyrone disrobed.
Theo, for his part, was shocked at the events, though, only so far as knowing how protective his sister was of him. Crazy girl, he thought hurriedly as he looked over his shoulder at the Crier's horse. The only thing between him and it was his would-be executioner who was of little trouble now - he was weaponless without his rope. Petros leaned in to him, offering salvation. This was a large surprise for Theo. "Thank ye," he said, and then turned quickly, his bound arms stretching as he slid his wrists under his bottom and stepped through them so that they were in front of him again, rather than behind. From there, the young pirate ran toward the Crier's horse and mounted it swiftly. His executioner stared in wonder.
Giving the horse a sharp kick, Theo watched as the young man he hadn't been introduced to (who had the same fate as him) ran and launched himself at Tyrone. The priest, being busy with his growing erection and need to smite the harlot, didn't hear Jacob's laughter, but he felt the impact as the carpenter slammed into his back and knocked him to the ground, sufficiently pushing the wind from his lungs. As soon as he hit the ground, the Farmer grabbed Jacob by the back of his shirt and tossed him, about five paces away into the crowd, before attempting to help Tyrone up off the ground. For Tyrone, the sensation was quite unlike anything he'd put himself through before. There was no air, his lungs struggled to find their power and remember their pattern was supposed to be, so that he stood in his loincloth, his member swiftly returning to a flaccid state as his body started in the act of self-preservation. His blade, though, remained strong in his hand.
Petros, circling his prey, found that it wasn't easy to get behind Angelique what with all the other activity, and it was almost as if the crowd were working against him, as if trying to help the temptress. As he did so, he could see Jacob's attack, but he was too far away, and then had to watch as Tyrone was slammed into the ground. It wouldn't take him but a few flickers to get back to his side. The priest's tattered robes lay scattered on the ground around his bare feet.
Behind the gallows, Theo spurred the horse forward and around the other side of the platform before riding up right behind and alongside Angelique to pick her up by her belt and pull her onto the horse behind him in one swift movement. He scanned for Jacob, but didn't see him in the mess of the crowd. He'd been lost as much to the pirates as he had been to the clergymen. Sorry, mate. Another time perhaps! He thought, and then dug his heel and the White Horse whinied and ran through a parting crowd. They might have loved a hanging, but they also loved theatrics. The pirates had won this day.
Jacob wasn't free yet. The fall had turned his ankle. It hurt, but it didn't feel broken, likely sprained. He'd have to get out of Sinner's Square without the behemouth Farmer spotting him, nor either of the angry clergymen.
OOC: Angelique, will contact you to see what ideas you have for where Theo and Angel will be off to next!
[color=#000000][i]"What of the soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?"[/i]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
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Angelique of Siorenn
- Pirate
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:42 pm
Confronted with Tyrone and his obvious high strung erection Angelique couldn't help it. She barked a deep amused sensual laugh, for a moment distracted by pure merriment. This actually saved the dark achadhiel a lot of pain because Jacob had the opportunity to play the hero and press him down. If it had been up to the pirate she would have landed a carefully placed boot in his crotch. Pirates after all do not play fair.
It also saved Angel from having to fight with a pained arm, which had already forced her to shift hands on her rapier and her dagger, even though the left was not her best side. Thankfully her brother wasted no time, pulling her on the magnificent white horse without so much as a warning. She clung to him, for a moment frowning as she couldn't see the man that had helped save them both. Yet pirates do as pirates are. Abandonment was his fate as they saved their own hide.
"There is a break in the wall over there," Angel pointed out into Theo's ear as he steered the stallion. Her dagger was put into her boot before she wrapped an arm around his waist once again. "Careful to avoid the crowd. There is something going down and I fear there will be much slaughter long after we have made good our escape, little brother."
Her accent was gone now, since most of it was play. She and her brother had actually suffered a reasonable education before her mother was so poor she couldn't keep it up any longer. If Angel hadn't repressed such memories she might even remember her father visiting and bringing a gentleness to the house. "Hurry," the redhead urged, never lost in the past, only living the moment.
"The Ealiel is at the docks just beyond the city borders. We just might make it there and lie low for a while." The poor guard who hoped for a rendez vous was all forgotten.
It also saved Angel from having to fight with a pained arm, which had already forced her to shift hands on her rapier and her dagger, even though the left was not her best side. Thankfully her brother wasted no time, pulling her on the magnificent white horse without so much as a warning. She clung to him, for a moment frowning as she couldn't see the man that had helped save them both. Yet pirates do as pirates are. Abandonment was his fate as they saved their own hide.
"There is a break in the wall over there," Angel pointed out into Theo's ear as he steered the stallion. Her dagger was put into her boot before she wrapped an arm around his waist once again. "Careful to avoid the crowd. There is something going down and I fear there will be much slaughter long after we have made good our escape, little brother."
Her accent was gone now, since most of it was play. She and her brother had actually suffered a reasonable education before her mother was so poor she couldn't keep it up any longer. If Angel hadn't repressed such memories she might even remember her father visiting and bringing a gentleness to the house. "Hurry," the redhead urged, never lost in the past, only living the moment.
"The Ealiel is at the docks just beyond the city borders. We just might make it there and lie low for a while." The poor guard who hoped for a rendez vous was all forgotten.
Last edited by Angelique of Siorenn on Thu Dec 11, 2008 9:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Everything was happening so fast. No sooner had Petros turned around the chaos picked up. What was Jacob doing? Now Tyrone and Jacob were in the crowd, Tyrone was on the ground and then Jacob was gone. The young man looked up he was on the stage with the weapon yielding women all by himself. He was unable to get behind her when Tyrone had been distracting her and now with the monk off stage he was facing her head on. That was that he may have never been in a fight before but he was going to have to charge her and hope for the best that was that.
Petros awkwardly gripped his knife and prepared to run forward when the most strange thing imaginable occurred. The man who just a few flickers before had been safe and securely held prisoner rode up on a horse. What? When did he....How did he? The young man was confounded. The good news as he saw it, however was that the two seemed to know each other and Theo pulled the women off stage and onto his newly acquired horse. They rode away and Petros no longer had to worry about a fight that he could not win, or at least for the time being. The young man quickly put his knife away and took a few flickers to get to the fallen monk.
"Brother are you alright?" The acolyte asked the monk with great concern in his voice. He knelt down next to the monk to see if he was injured. There was no sign of injury that Petros could see. "Let me help you up."
Petros awkwardly gripped his knife and prepared to run forward when the most strange thing imaginable occurred. The man who just a few flickers before had been safe and securely held prisoner rode up on a horse. What? When did he....How did he? The young man was confounded. The good news as he saw it, however was that the two seemed to know each other and Theo pulled the women off stage and onto his newly acquired horse. They rode away and Petros no longer had to worry about a fight that he could not win, or at least for the time being. The young man quickly put his knife away and took a few flickers to get to the fallen monk.
"Brother are you alright?" The acolyte asked the monk with great concern in his voice. He knelt down next to the monk to see if he was injured. There was no sign of injury that Petros could see. "Let me help you up."
The Jackal thought that he would have her grappled, squirming and sweating under him, moaning and whimpering so loudly that the mere thought of it sent shivering spasm of quicksilver all over his semi-naked body. Oh, he couldn't wait to lay her hands on her as he readied himself for the attack, knowing that he would be strangling her delicate neck, debasing her womanhood all for the glory of the One God!
But it was to no avail.
The wind was knocked off of him when he felt someone tackled him from behind, his face showed an incredulous look of surprise. The last scene he had seen was the mocking grin of Angel laughing over him as he fell onto the ground, anger welling inside him, washing over him, at this disruption of his sacred mission to grapple the temptress, to let his body slid over her and to feel her submission, her submission against the hard power of the Sacred One Eye of the Dominicus. Used to the pain, the dark acadhiel acolyte of the Purificatio tried to ignore it and tried to catch his breath. It took him more than a flicker of moment as he pounded his chest with hard force and with a last strike of his chest, he caught his breath once more with a loud wheeze and immediately lifted his head to helplessly watch the harlot woman being carried away by the freed pirate riding on a white horse.
"NOOOOOO!" The Jackal growled out loud in frustration, his voice full of pent up frustration and deep anger. He gnashed his teeth, tore at his hair and started the ground with his fist. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" With a movement that seemed to befit his half adhiel race, Tyrone gracefully lifted himself up from the ground and turned to stare at the retreating form of the two pirate upon their stolen horse.
Very well! you may have won the battle, the Jackal declared silently, seething and growling with fury, his fanatic eyes trying to catch the last glimpse of Angel as she was carried away out of the Square. But the war's not over yet! As Dominicus is my witness, you shall feel the hard punishment of the One Eye of Dominicus and you shall whimper under His Just chastisement. Yes, the hunt has begun and Tyrone vowed he would see her once more and that would be the final reckoning.
"Yes, Brother Petros," The dark achadhiel replied, his eyes still looking over the crowd, trying to catch the last sight of Angelique. "I am unscathed. Who attacked me from behind?" He turned his cold, fanatic eyes upon the younger acolyte to check if he was not hurt and then retrieved his robe from where he had left it.
"The crowd may turn against us, Brother Petros, perhaps it is time that we leave." He replied and looked disdainfully at the crowd, unimpressed by the actions of the City Guards and by their lack of unity.
But it was to no avail.
The wind was knocked off of him when he felt someone tackled him from behind, his face showed an incredulous look of surprise. The last scene he had seen was the mocking grin of Angel laughing over him as he fell onto the ground, anger welling inside him, washing over him, at this disruption of his sacred mission to grapple the temptress, to let his body slid over her and to feel her submission, her submission against the hard power of the Sacred One Eye of the Dominicus. Used to the pain, the dark acadhiel acolyte of the Purificatio tried to ignore it and tried to catch his breath. It took him more than a flicker of moment as he pounded his chest with hard force and with a last strike of his chest, he caught his breath once more with a loud wheeze and immediately lifted his head to helplessly watch the harlot woman being carried away by the freed pirate riding on a white horse.
"NOOOOOO!" The Jackal growled out loud in frustration, his voice full of pent up frustration and deep anger. He gnashed his teeth, tore at his hair and started the ground with his fist. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" With a movement that seemed to befit his half adhiel race, Tyrone gracefully lifted himself up from the ground and turned to stare at the retreating form of the two pirate upon their stolen horse.
Very well! you may have won the battle, the Jackal declared silently, seething and growling with fury, his fanatic eyes trying to catch the last glimpse of Angel as she was carried away out of the Square. But the war's not over yet! As Dominicus is my witness, you shall feel the hard punishment of the One Eye of Dominicus and you shall whimper under His Just chastisement. Yes, the hunt has begun and Tyrone vowed he would see her once more and that would be the final reckoning.
"Yes, Brother Petros," The dark achadhiel replied, his eyes still looking over the crowd, trying to catch the last sight of Angelique. "I am unscathed. Who attacked me from behind?" He turned his cold, fanatic eyes upon the younger acolyte to check if he was not hurt and then retrieved his robe from where he had left it.
"The crowd may turn against us, Brother Petros, perhaps it is time that we leave." He replied and looked disdainfully at the crowd, unimpressed by the actions of the City Guards and by their lack of unity.
Last edited by Tyrone on Sat Dec 13, 2008 10:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Jacob Rimon
- Civus
- Posts: 99
- Joined: Thu Sep 11, 2008 4:00 pm
- Location: King's Court
- Contact:
Jacob picked himself up off the crowd, trying to find support. It occurred to him that he didn't want to be seen, but the pain in his ankle was ensuring he didn't accidentally stand tall amongst the crowd. He quickly took stock of his situation, and undid the clapse on his cloak, shrugging the hooded garmet off and into the dirt. Then, reconsidering, he wrapped it up into a bundle in his arms, and shuffled away from the gallows.
Don't look back, Jacob told himself, don't look back. What are the crowd doing?
Jacob tried to gauge the crowd. There was no way walking directly away from the stage if all else were facing it, or he'd stick out like a sore thumb. If, however, he could appear to be moving with them, but at the same time moving towards somewhere where he could catch his breath, or find a less obvious exit from the Square, he'd be a lot better off. Surely?
Don't look back, Jacob told himself, don't look back. What are the crowd doing?
Jacob tried to gauge the crowd. There was no way walking directly away from the stage if all else were facing it, or he'd stick out like a sore thumb. If, however, he could appear to be moving with them, but at the same time moving towards somewhere where he could catch his breath, or find a less obvious exit from the Square, he'd be a lot better off. Surely?
Irregular posting, busy with RL commitments! Sorry![url=http://www.allavatars.com/avatars/showphoto.php?photo=204&size=big&password=0&sort=1&cat=500]Avatar Source[/url]
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Ashari
- Moderator & Coordinator Mer Cities
- Posts: 4125
- Joined: Mon Dec 30, 2002 11:31 pm
- Location: Anachronism
Theo bit his lip... Ah, yes, of course Angelique. Right over the wall! "Ahahahahaha, fantastic," he bore down low on the horse. "Hold on, girl," he shouted over his shoulder and dug his heel into the muscled meat of his mount. "Ha-yah!" and the white horse took off, weaving it's way in front of the crowd to jump onto a building platform, run a pace and then jump the remaining distance over the semi-rebuilt wall.
On the other side it was a good deal further down. "SWEET VARGAZZZZZZ" could be heard over the din of the crowd as Theo braced for impact on the other side of the wall. The horse, however, landed cleanly, and the pair were off - dashing through the soft grass that surrounded the perimeter wall.
On the inside of the wall, the scene was hardly so pastoral. Mercenaries were caught in a riot with one another, fighting and yelling out obscenities toward the Church. It was a scene with no pattern, no rhyme or reason, and for that Jacob wouldn't appear to be going against the grain. His most real danger was actually standing still for too long. The crowd shifted around him like a living creature of it's own - surging like the tide. His ankle throbbed mightily.
Tyrone had managed to get his wind back quickly, with practiced routine, but that didn't mean that he and Petros were out of harm's way. The crowd was loud and rude. "We HUNGER! Where is DOMINICUS?" They yelled and a rotten cabbage flew through the air with an arc to land with a grotesque squish against the side of Petros' face. It slid down his face and onto the ground where it was subsequently smashed under the foot of Farmer. "Priests. We must go," he said.
On the other side it was a good deal further down. "SWEET VARGAZZZZZZ" could be heard over the din of the crowd as Theo braced for impact on the other side of the wall. The horse, however, landed cleanly, and the pair were off - dashing through the soft grass that surrounded the perimeter wall.
On the inside of the wall, the scene was hardly so pastoral. Mercenaries were caught in a riot with one another, fighting and yelling out obscenities toward the Church. It was a scene with no pattern, no rhyme or reason, and for that Jacob wouldn't appear to be going against the grain. His most real danger was actually standing still for too long. The crowd shifted around him like a living creature of it's own - surging like the tide. His ankle throbbed mightily.
Tyrone had managed to get his wind back quickly, with practiced routine, but that didn't mean that he and Petros were out of harm's way. The crowd was loud and rude. "We HUNGER! Where is DOMINICUS?" They yelled and a rotten cabbage flew through the air with an arc to land with a grotesque squish against the side of Petros' face. It slid down his face and onto the ground where it was subsequently smashed under the foot of Farmer. "Priests. We must go," he said.
[color=#000000][i]"What of the soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?"[/i]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
-- Robert Browning. [/color][size=75][i]Avatar by: [url=http://vyrl.deviantart.com/]vyrl[/url][/i][/size]
He could not believe his ears, let alone what he was seeing right in front of him, standing before the riotous crowd. Weren't the citizens of Kings Court the chosen people of God? How could these humans be so fickle in their faith? How could they turn against the Wisdom of the One God and allowed sin and darkness to creep inside their hearts? How could they? How dare they?
The Jackal stood there before the rioting crowd clad merely in his loincloth, and there he raged helplessly as assorted rotten produce were lobbed at them as if they were the sinners and not them! Oh, he wanted to cry out loud against the frustration of it all, against this rage and righteous anger boiling helplessly inside of him, gawking at the crowd with both a scornful and an incredulous look. He tried so very hard to bring the light of the One God to them yet they denied Him, they denied His love!
Why?!
Choking back a frustrated sob, Tyrone saw another produce flew from the crowd and smack right upon Petros cheeks. No! He couldn't bare to see this treatment done to his younger brother acolyte! He felt as if he needed to protect him and he wanted to hurt the crowd so badly yet he couldn't and it ached inside of him, this helplessness, this vulnerable feeling that he couldn't do anything against the onslaught of pagan and sinful wickedness!
"Is... this..." The Jackal whispered vehemently to Brother Petros, pointing at the crowd, his face so woebegone as he chocked back another frustrated sob with tears that seemed to pour out as if from a floodgate. "...Tell me... Brother Petros... Are these the... people you want to save?" And then, there, he wept bitterly, tears streaming down his dark cheeks for the Justice that was denied of them. No! They all deserve death! They all deserve the punishment of the One God and more!
"Flee, my friend!" Tyrone replied to the farmer, reaching for his shoulder and giving it a brotherly squeeze. "Take Brother Petros and save him. Tarry not lest you both be killed by these sinful crowd."
And then and there, clad merely in a loincloth, his dark achadhiel face weeping with fecund tears, full of profound anger, the Jackal stepped forward towards the incoming crowd and gazing his fanatic eyes heavenward, the young acolyte monk of the Purificatio fell on his knees and delivered himself wholeheartedly, his fate, to the One God. He was prepared to sacrifice everything, his life if need be, to show these unbelievers and sinners the might and power of the One God! Piously, he clasped his hands together and cried out with all his heart and soul against the injustice done to the name of the One God Dominicus and wailing, prayed the Canticle of the Jackal, the Spirit of Retribution:
"LORD! DO NOT FORSAKE ME!
I cry out to thee, O Dominicus:
Save me, O Lord,
For they that hate me,
Hate thee as well, O Lord,
And they are plentiful,
Like an endless desert sand,
They that hate us without a cause!
Let them be confounded,
Let them be ashamed that seek my soul.
For thy Blessed name,
For thy sake,
I have borne reproach,
And shame has covered my face.
Deliver me, O Lord,
From the Nether that hunts me,
Let them be,
Scattered like sands in the wind,
Like wax that melts,
Before your righteous flame!
Show them, O Dominicus,
And forsake me not!"
The Jackal stood there before the rioting crowd clad merely in his loincloth, and there he raged helplessly as assorted rotten produce were lobbed at them as if they were the sinners and not them! Oh, he wanted to cry out loud against the frustration of it all, against this rage and righteous anger boiling helplessly inside of him, gawking at the crowd with both a scornful and an incredulous look. He tried so very hard to bring the light of the One God to them yet they denied Him, they denied His love!
Why?!
Choking back a frustrated sob, Tyrone saw another produce flew from the crowd and smack right upon Petros cheeks. No! He couldn't bare to see this treatment done to his younger brother acolyte! He felt as if he needed to protect him and he wanted to hurt the crowd so badly yet he couldn't and it ached inside of him, this helplessness, this vulnerable feeling that he couldn't do anything against the onslaught of pagan and sinful wickedness!
"Is... this..." The Jackal whispered vehemently to Brother Petros, pointing at the crowd, his face so woebegone as he chocked back another frustrated sob with tears that seemed to pour out as if from a floodgate. "...Tell me... Brother Petros... Are these the... people you want to save?" And then, there, he wept bitterly, tears streaming down his dark cheeks for the Justice that was denied of them. No! They all deserve death! They all deserve the punishment of the One God and more!
"Flee, my friend!" Tyrone replied to the farmer, reaching for his shoulder and giving it a brotherly squeeze. "Take Brother Petros and save him. Tarry not lest you both be killed by these sinful crowd."
And then and there, clad merely in a loincloth, his dark achadhiel face weeping with fecund tears, full of profound anger, the Jackal stepped forward towards the incoming crowd and gazing his fanatic eyes heavenward, the young acolyte monk of the Purificatio fell on his knees and delivered himself wholeheartedly, his fate, to the One God. He was prepared to sacrifice everything, his life if need be, to show these unbelievers and sinners the might and power of the One God! Piously, he clasped his hands together and cried out with all his heart and soul against the injustice done to the name of the One God Dominicus and wailing, prayed the Canticle of the Jackal, the Spirit of Retribution:
"LORD! DO NOT FORSAKE ME!
I cry out to thee, O Dominicus:
Save me, O Lord,
For they that hate me,
Hate thee as well, O Lord,
And they are plentiful,
Like an endless desert sand,
They that hate us without a cause!
Let them be confounded,
Let them be ashamed that seek my soul.
For thy Blessed name,
For thy sake,
I have borne reproach,
And shame has covered my face.
Deliver me, O Lord,
From the Nether that hunts me,
Let them be,
Scattered like sands in the wind,
Like wax that melts,
Before your righteous flame!
Show them, O Dominicus,
And forsake me not!"
Last edited by Tyrone on Tue Dec 16, 2008 3:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[size=75]Avatar from:[url=http://artofphilwohr.blogspot.com/2007/08/redmist-castle-work.html]Phil Wohr[/url]
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[i][b]"Hate thy neighbours for they hate you even more."[/i][/b]
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[i][b]"Hate thy neighbours for they hate you even more."[/i][/b]
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Posting: Once/week[/size]
Yes they are the one who need love the must Petros himself only half believed it the other half was to busy looking around and dodging whatever else the crowd might throw in his direction. It was indeed a sad day when people disrespected their god, but it seemed to the acolyte that maybe there was something else going on. It seemed that even if it was Petros would have to learn about it second hand. Tyrone was insisting that he leave.
The Young acolyte was hesitant to leave. The way Tyrone was talking he was afraid that he was going to do something that he might regret, or that he might not survive. Either way Petros was afraid for Tyrone. He had not known him long but the young man did not want anything to happen to the monk, the acolyte would need the experienced man around to teach and instruct him. All of this going through his head was making his head hurt.
Tyrone seemed concerned for the safety of his companions and Petros was concerned for Tyrone's as well. He would have said so but the monk probably would not have listened anyway. It is with some shame that the young monk made his next choose. I must go, he is right, and he will be able to handle himself. Petros again took out his knife again and gave it to Tyrone. "Just in case you need it brother. May Dominicus smile on you, and bring you back to the basilica again." With that Petros turned toward the farmer who he did not know but who Tyrone had spoken to. "Lead the way, we must leave now." The acolyte would follow the farmer as he moved always keeping an eye out for people who may be coming after them and dodging anything that the crowd may throw at him during his escape from the square.
The Young acolyte was hesitant to leave. The way Tyrone was talking he was afraid that he was going to do something that he might regret, or that he might not survive. Either way Petros was afraid for Tyrone. He had not known him long but the young man did not want anything to happen to the monk, the acolyte would need the experienced man around to teach and instruct him. All of this going through his head was making his head hurt.
Tyrone seemed concerned for the safety of his companions and Petros was concerned for Tyrone's as well. He would have said so but the monk probably would not have listened anyway. It is with some shame that the young monk made his next choose. I must go, he is right, and he will be able to handle himself. Petros again took out his knife again and gave it to Tyrone. "Just in case you need it brother. May Dominicus smile on you, and bring you back to the basilica again." With that Petros turned toward the farmer who he did not know but who Tyrone had spoken to. "Lead the way, we must leave now." The acolyte would follow the farmer as he moved always keeping an eye out for people who may be coming after them and dodging anything that the crowd may throw at him during his escape from the square.
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Angelique of Siorenn
- Pirate
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- Joined: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:42 pm
"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Angelique cried out with joy, holding on tight to her brother. She was completely unaware of the scene they departed, filled instead with adrenaline, that rush that was so very addictive. "YES!" she cried triumphantly when they safely landed, then whispering into Theo's ears "Turn over there brother. We are off to the Offing."
OOC: and I'm out of here. Thank you so very much for the joy of this thread
OOC: and I'm out of here. Thank you so very much for the joy of this thread