Dark Heart of Arkravia

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella
-------
One second the Molty is praying, the next the last thing to ever go through his mind does. The bullet from Bishop Frella's pistol. The man pitches face first onto the split-log sidewalk outside the building, his hair on fire from the closeness of the muzzle blast. The tuskers and the human prisoners outside who witnessed it stare in shock, fear, and a few, hatred. Three young tusker girls go down on their knees in the gravel, wailing out cries for forgiveness and reciting the Litanies of Faith in their loud voices.

"Uh... uh... shall we... um.. shall we escort you now to the Lord Bishop, Bishop Frella?" The Lord Captain stammers, his eyes on the head of the burning man. Several of the soldiers still in the room knuckle their forehead and murmur Litanies of Protection.

Outside the doorway, flies begin to light at the edges of the slowly spreading puddle of blood and on the clumps of brain tissue that the shot spewed out into the street.

Smythe
-------------

The Marine sits down, waving at the young Scout Captain. "Not sure who trained that tuskanini, but she keeps her eyes like she should and dresses properly." He makes a snorting noise. "Some snot-nosed acolyte came in here, babbling about how she should be purified because she's, you know, a tuskanini. We told him to back up and tend to Father Church's business, and he started getting all butt-hurt about it, but when we offered to clean his ears with a pistol-ball so he could hear us better, he scampered back up to yap at the Lord Bishop."

He holds out a plug of chewing tobacco, the smell unfamiliar and obviously fresh. Definitely not ship-board stocks. "Chaw, Scout-Captain?"

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella calmly reloads and replaces the pistol inside his shirt, not deigning to look at the Lord Captain, and begins walking forward.

"Yes, Lord Captain, I think that would be a prudent thing to do."

...

Smythe

Smythe drops down into the chair the Marine offered and reaches a big hand out to take the offered tobacco.

"Why thank you, son! Fire and bloody steel, why you have no ideas the stories I could tell..."

Smythe stuffs the tobacco into his cheek, eyes each of the Marines at the table inclusively, and begins to launch into an overblown and overlong tale of adventure and his own masculinity.

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella
----------
Frella can hear the whispers of the Godless Lagoos who had sought to continue their foul demon worship on the shores of this undiscovered continent, as well as feel the fearful stares of the tuskers, as he strides ahead of the Lord Captain and his animals. His eyes automatically check skirt length on the females, pants length on the males, and shirt cuff length on both. Very few are allowed to show above their wrists or their ankles, and he notices that a lot of the female tuskers are showing an ungodly amount of green skin below their hems. However, that would be a few days, the tuskers in their ignorant ways undoubtably didn't know any better.

However, in a few days, showing an ankle or wrist, unless it was a laborer at work, would be worth a few stripes on the back.

One of the Lagoo women stops in front of Bishop Frella, her eyes going wide at the sight of the imposing cleric. Her straw-colored hair is swept back from a long healed brand on her forehead. She curtseys deeply, her head bowing so that her hair falls in front of her face and hides the brand, and murmurs "Pardon this unworthy one, your eminence, but the Lord Bishop..."

"Whore! Where isth your man?" The Lord Captain bellows, drawing his saber. His lisp somewhat ruins what he obviously intended to be an intimidating roar.

Smythe
---------
The tales are just getting good, and Smythe is telling a long and involved story about a Lagoo eating a cook-book because of the pictures, when a Church Army Lord Sergeant comes barging into the 'tavern', his face florid and angry looking. He stomps up behind Smythe.

"What are you dogs doing in here?" He snarls. "You Marine scum belong on your vessel getting scurvy, not lounging about swilling down ale." He smack Smythe's shoulder, having not seen the Scout Captain's sash or pins of rank. "And what are you doing in here, Scout scum? Why aren't you forming up at the gate?"

The tusker women vanish in a swirl of skirts into the back room, and one of the Church Soldiers, sitting at their own table, snickers just loud enough to be heard.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella's arm shoots out in front of the Lord Captain.

"Lord Captain, are you in the practice of interrupting the Lord Bishop's property doing His Will? I realize that you are a simple man, but had I realized that you wished to stand in God's grace personally I wouldn't have replaced my pistol so soon."

Frella remains motionless, looking at the Lagoo woman, arm still outstretched in front of the Lord Captain, and waits.

...

Smythe

Smythe reaches up and grabs the Lord Sergeant's hand (the one that smacked Smythe's shoulder) and pulls it from his shoulder to the table in front of him.

With his other hand he pulls one of the sharp, gleaming hand axes from his belt and brings around and down, chopping the Lord Sergeant's hand off.

"THESE fine Marines are My Guests, drinking My mead, and listening to tales of My amazing deeds! Perhaps if Your men had the fortitude to Tame Wildernesses and Purge the Unworthy then Marines and Scouts would have more time to insult their betters, like you."

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

"My... my apologiesth, your eminence, pleathe, I mean no offenthe." The Lord Captain pales, his eyes darting left and right, seeking a way out. One of his men has the unfortunate timing of snickering at the Lord Captain's embarrassment as well as his lisping shout right when the Lord Captain glances at him. His face going from pale to mottled purple and white, the Lord Captain whirls around. "What isth it you find stho funny, dog?" He screams, his voice high and thready, still panicked from his realization that he was mere moments from being found wanting and facing justice. "I'll have you whipped at the thtake!"

The Lagoo slave swallows, knowing that her position as one of the Lord Bishop Horaga Verestian's personal servants was no protection against the will of the church. If she was executed, the Lord Bishop may take offense, but that would not help her mortal self. Obviously fearful of the panicked Lord Captain, she keeps her eyes firmly on the ground and continues: "The Lord Bishop wishes to extend his hospitality and would have you present yourself at your convenience in order for him to ensure that you have proper lodging, as your slaves have arrived at the palace."

With that, she waves her hand behind her, where a sedan carried by four Shragma is heading straight toward Frella, with a pair of church soldiers shoving people out of the way and crying out "Make way! Make way!" The crude featured Shragma are clothed only in loincloths, with their large sloping foreheads marked with the Lord Bishop's personal mark, as well as ornamental chains about their wrists as a reminder of their people's conquest by the church armies over two decades ago.

The unfortunate target of the Lord Captain's wrath is standing there, his face reddening. On his sash he has several pins of valor as well as the gleaming gold and ceramic crest of a Servant of the Empress award, denoting specific bravery that was recognized in court. The Lord Captain has obviously missed the black stitching on the white band in the middle of the sash that denotes the fact that the church soldier is not only blood relation to a highly placed noble, but has severed all ties to secular power in the name of the church.

Smythe

The Lord Sergeant screams in terror and pain as the hand axe slams down, severing his hand at the wrist, and sticks into the table before Smythe yanks the hand axe back with the skill of long practice. The marine across the table from the Lord Sergeant's arm had known what was coming and leaned back in his chair so that the spurting of arterial blood misses him completely. Several of the other marines break into laughter, an older one with a scarred face and missing an ear lifts his pistol from under the table where he had had it aimed at the young Lord Sergeant and holsters it again, taking a long drink off of his mug with a smile.

The Lagoo slave girls don't even scream, one just hurrying from the kitchen with a bucket of soapy water and some rags, the other ones keeping their eyes down so as not to look their betters in the eyes.

The one who had been serving beer snatches up Smythe's beer to keep the mug from getting bloody and sets it down next to Smythe, far enough where he won't knock it over easily, but close enough to easily reach.

The church soldiers all exclaim in shock, several of them coming to their feet, and two lunging for the weapons. One flat out faints, crashing to the floor and shattering a chair as he sees the blood.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella nods solemnly to the female, finally lowering his arm from in front of the Lord Captain.
"Excellent. In fact, given his apparent inability to execute the simple task of seeing me there, I will release the Lord Captain to whatever duties he may have that he is capable of performing. As such, I now charge You with seeing me to the Lord Bishop so that the matter of my lodgings may be put to rest."

...

Smythe

Smythe slides the axe back into the frog hanging from his belt and reaches out a meaty hand to take the mug once the girl has set it back down. Throwing his head back, he takes a long draught before setting it back on the table and wiping the back of his other hand across his mouth.

Smythe then leans his chair back and places his feet on the edge of the table, a broad, toothy grin spreading across his face before he lauches back into the overblown, overlong tale of his own magnificence from where he was interupted.

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The Lord Captain finds his attention turned back to Bishop Frella at his sudden 'demotion' in favor of the Lord Bishop's slave. The church soldier's expression does not change, but there's a feeling of a lessening in tension from the man. One of the church soldier breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that the violence has been averted by the Lord Captain's short attention span.

The Lagoo slave waits until the Shragma slaves bring the sedan up to in front of Bishop Frella before clapping her hands. A young lagoo, his clothing torn and the brand on his face still swollen and red from recent application, kneels in front of the sedan to allow Bishop Frella to get into the sedan with proper dignity.

"What shtall we do, your eminenthe?" the Lord Captain asks. He winces as the men sentenced to purification by Bishop Frella begin screaming as the flames ignite around their feet.

Up by the gate, Bishop Frella can see that there are Imperial Marines gathering up, their weapons gleaming in the sun.

Smythe

Smythe pays no attention, still talking, when the two who were grabbing for weapons raise them up and fire, both bullets missing the Scout Captain, as well as the two marines. One bullet hits one of the maids in the arm, and she goes down on her knees screaming, holding onto the wound. The man with the severed hand has staggered back, holding onto the stump and screaming. The rest of the maids dive to the floor, with the exception of the lagoo who has been bringing Smythe beer (as well as a delicious sandwich of some kind of locally caught meat with odd spices that was quite delicious), who stands stock still, either in fear or courage it's hard to say.

The marines pull their weapons, pistols in one hand and saw-backed blades in the other, standing up from their chairs.

The scarred marine across from Smythe, as well as the one who neatly avoided the bloodspray, both look up at the church soldiers, but do nothing more than simply take another drink and let their hands fall beneath the tables. The young 'assistant', who has been listening to all the stories avidly, looks to Smythe for direction, and seeing him sitting there, does little more than draw his pistol and keep it in his lap as the church soldiers begin grabbing more muskets. One of the ones that fired begins to try to reload, the other jabs the bayonet on the end of his musket menacingly yelling "Yah!" at the top of his lungs.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella steps onto the back of the kneeling Lagoo slave and pauses, half-turning toward the Lord Captain.

"You have been dismissed, what you do is no longer my problem."

He then mounts the sedan and settles himself comfortably in it.

...

Smythe

Smythe stops in mid-sentence and turns his head to the church soldiers.

His smile disappears.

"That was just disrespectful is what that is."

Shaking his head sadly, his brows dropping in ire, he stands up. In the same motion one hand drops down to draw a throwing axe and smoothly hurls it toward the head of one of the men who fired. With his other hand he grabs his musket and levels the barrel toward the face of the other.

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The city has taken only moderate damage compared to what Frella has seen during the Crusade. The majority of the buildings are intact, the majority of the people who put down their weapons, did not fight against the Holy Empress's marines, or just plain hid are still alive, and hardly one in twelve buildings are on fire. While it is obvious to the Bishop that the city was built with make-do slapdash materials rather than the customarily accepted caementicium that the civilized world uses, the buildings do have their charm, made largely of reddish colored brick or black gleaming wood. A Low Marshall is overseeing his marines dumping the ill-gotten wealth of the pirates and barbarians in a large pile in the middle of the town square, making Frella smile. It is good to have seasoned and experienced men from the Third Crusade who know how to avoid the typical problems of distributing the ill-gotten wealth of the pirates to those more godly and deserving.

The massive Shragma gleam in the sun, their oiled muscles playing smoothly under their thick hides (thankfully shaved so they look less like beasts), and their large tusks polished and gleaming, move the sedan easily through the city streets. The tuskininis being gathered up are being watched over carefully by Inquisitors to ensure that no man takes more than his due when the parcelling begins.

The Shragma slowly climb the slight rise, where the palace is, passing by the stake where the body of the Lord Admiral still smoulders greasily, his soul, debased by heresy, having been carried to the heavens by purifying smoke and file. They move through the shattered gates of the palace, past the piles of pirate and heretic bodies stacked like so much cordwood. Several slaves are removing the heads of the dead pirates and heretics, carrying the heads to a large iron pot where holy oils are boiling to strip the flesh from the bone so that the skulls of the heretics can be properly displayed to warn others of the price of heresy.

Once in the gate the young Lagoo again kneels down to allow Frella to climbs down comfortably and easily from the sedan.

"With your permission, your eminence, may I guide you to his most holy, the Lord Bishop?" The slave asks, keeping her eyes down and averted from Frella.

Smythe

The axe whirls and takes off the ear of the Church soldier raising the musket to aim it toward Smythe. The man screams, dropping the musket (which goes off when it hits the floor, the bullet whipping across the room to put a hole in the mead barrel), and grabbing the side of his head as he sinks to the floor. One of the marines parries the musket with his saw backed blade, firing his pistol into the chest of the church soldier, who's leather proves no match for the close ranged shot. Another marine has drawn both pistols and fires them into the chest of one of the other church soldiers, dropping him to the floor. The one across from Smythe pushes aside a thrust bayonet with his beer mug and then drives the heel of his boot into the church soldier's crotch. The one with the missing ear just shakes his head, taking another long drink, the church soldier who was levelling the musket turning to aim at someone else. (Intimidate Check: Nat 20 for our one eared friend)

Smythe raises the musket, seeing that four church soldiers have muskets readied, seven are grabbing for the muskets laying around, and one (an officer judging by the sash) jumps out the window. The Lagoo women are watching carefully, even as one matronly looking one rips off the hem of her skirt to tie off bullet wound in the other's arm.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella steps down from the sedan to the Laggo's back, then down to the floor, looking around at the Good Works around him and smiling serenely before turning to the girl with a curt nod.
"Yes, the Lord Bishop awaits. Let us continue."

...

Smythe

Smythe looks down the barrel of his musket at the 4 soldiers with muskets, back straight, no tension apparent in his body, keeping the other 7 in his peripheral vision. After a breath he raises his head and a half-smile spread across his face without ever touching his eyes.

"You boys seem to have found yourselves in a predicament. You're down to an 11-to-1 situation, and that just isn't going to be enough to see you back home the way you're going, because I am THE Scout-Captain Sean Smythe. Maybe you've heard your mothers or older sisters talking about me, or surely you spent the ship-ride here listening to your officers telling stories of my adventures."

Smythe cocks the musket's hammer back with his thumb.

"Either way, whoever gets the bullet's going to be the lucky one."