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<blockquote data-quote="Ralts Bloodthorne" data-source="post: 6286876" data-attributes="member: 6390"><p><span style="color: #ff0000"><strong>Frella</strong></span></p><p></p><p>The Lagoo slave leads the Bishop into the palace, past the wrecked gates that were blown down by the cannon that the marines wheeled in on a carriage. A few of the lagoo slaves that were pulling the gun-carriage are being treated for their wounds, but the heavy chainmail they had been wearing had largely held up, and besides, there's more where they came from. Several Lagoo are swabbing out the cannon's barrel, the cotton wadding black with unburnt gunpowder. Past the gates is the main hallway, where the bloodstains are covered in sand that is currently being swept up by Lagoo. The heretical banners are torn down, and Frella knows that they were thrown in the bonfire out in the courtyard.</p><p></p><p>In the throne room the banners and other decorations of the pirates and heretics have been removed, and slaves are putting up banners of Father Church as well as banners of the Empire and a portrait of the Empress herself.</p><p></p><p>Sitting on a pile of cushions is the Lord Bishop himself, a large man with a florid face, a nose full of broken veins, piercing black eyes, and long black hair who is surrounded by his assistants and scribes. As Frella walks into the throne room the Lord Bishop leans back on the cushions and waves a hand at one of the green skinned lagoo girls so that she goes back to fanning him.</p><p></p><p>"Take the heretic away and have him burned at the stake. Have his women and wealth divided up among the valiant marines who broke the back of the resistance and place his children in the care of Father Church once they have been renamed to absolve them of their sins." He says, his voice deep and slow. He sees Bishop Frella walking into the palace throne room and gestures at the cushions next to him.</p><p></p><p>"Bishop Frella, welcome. Seat yourself, by your pleasure, for judgements are finished." He says, nodding sagely.</p><p></p><p>An invitation, polite as it may be, from the Lord Bishop, is nearly a commandment from God.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: #ff0000"><strong>Smythe</strong></span></p><p></p><p>The church soldiers look at the gathered marines, eyes on the wicked and cruel sawblades on the back of the cutlass-like blades and the leveled musket held by the hard eyed Scout Captain. One sets the musket carefully on the table, and the others slowly follow suit, careful not to move too suddenly and provoke any more violence.</p><p></p><p>The older marine kicks at the church soldier dying at his feet and looks over at the tuskanini's. "Drag this trash outside." He grins, revealing steel teeth. "Anything on them you can share with your sisters, tuskanini."</p><p></p><p>The lagoo women nod gratefully, rushing forward to pull the five dead church soldiers out of the tavern.</p><p></p><p>The officer peers back over the window, sees that the violence has been defused, and climbs into the 'tavern' again, holding tight to his feather plumed hat.</p><p></p><p>"Church soldiers, form up. Since you are so eager to prove yourselves in combat, you can accompany the marines into the jungle." He snarls out. He stares at Smythe and swallows thickly, almost as if he recognizes the big Scout Captain. "By your leave, Scout Captain."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Ralts Bloodthorne, post: 6286876, member: 6390"] [COLOR=#ff0000][B]Frella[/B][/COLOR] The Lagoo slave leads the Bishop into the palace, past the wrecked gates that were blown down by the cannon that the marines wheeled in on a carriage. A few of the lagoo slaves that were pulling the gun-carriage are being treated for their wounds, but the heavy chainmail they had been wearing had largely held up, and besides, there's more where they came from. Several Lagoo are swabbing out the cannon's barrel, the cotton wadding black with unburnt gunpowder. Past the gates is the main hallway, where the bloodstains are covered in sand that is currently being swept up by Lagoo. The heretical banners are torn down, and Frella knows that they were thrown in the bonfire out in the courtyard. In the throne room the banners and other decorations of the pirates and heretics have been removed, and slaves are putting up banners of Father Church as well as banners of the Empire and a portrait of the Empress herself. Sitting on a pile of cushions is the Lord Bishop himself, a large man with a florid face, a nose full of broken veins, piercing black eyes, and long black hair who is surrounded by his assistants and scribes. As Frella walks into the throne room the Lord Bishop leans back on the cushions and waves a hand at one of the green skinned lagoo girls so that she goes back to fanning him. "Take the heretic away and have him burned at the stake. Have his women and wealth divided up among the valiant marines who broke the back of the resistance and place his children in the care of Father Church once they have been renamed to absolve them of their sins." He says, his voice deep and slow. He sees Bishop Frella walking into the palace throne room and gestures at the cushions next to him. "Bishop Frella, welcome. Seat yourself, by your pleasure, for judgements are finished." He says, nodding sagely. An invitation, polite as it may be, from the Lord Bishop, is nearly a commandment from God. [COLOR=#ff0000][B]Smythe[/B][/COLOR] The church soldiers look at the gathered marines, eyes on the wicked and cruel sawblades on the back of the cutlass-like blades and the leveled musket held by the hard eyed Scout Captain. One sets the musket carefully on the table, and the others slowly follow suit, careful not to move too suddenly and provoke any more violence. The older marine kicks at the church soldier dying at his feet and looks over at the tuskanini's. "Drag this trash outside." He grins, revealing steel teeth. "Anything on them you can share with your sisters, tuskanini." The lagoo women nod gratefully, rushing forward to pull the five dead church soldiers out of the tavern. The officer peers back over the window, sees that the violence has been defused, and climbs into the 'tavern' again, holding tight to his feather plumed hat. "Church soldiers, form up. Since you are so eager to prove yourselves in combat, you can accompany the marines into the jungle." He snarls out. He stares at Smythe and swallows thickly, almost as if he recognizes the big Scout Captain. "By your leave, Scout Captain." [/QUOTE]
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