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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ralts Bloodthorne" data-source="post: 6259727" data-attributes="member: 6390">SmytheThe soldier and Smythe step to the side at the front of the building as two soldiers dump another body out of the second story window. The man, a pirate by his clothing, has his hands bound behind his back, but is able to scream in his short fall before he hits the gravel road face first with the sound of someone dropping a melon on the floor."Gardy-loo!" one of them yells out, laughing, before disappearing back into the window. A man starts screaming as Smythe and the soldier step through the open door, a piece of the shattered wooden door clattering off of the Scout Captain's boot.A good score of Church Soldiers, as well as a half dozen Imperial Marines, have thrown the bodies into a stack by the back door and righted the tables. Four Lagoo slaves are scrubbing up the bloodstains from the fighting that took place that morning while a tusker  child, new to the collar, is swatting at flies with a leather strap and a young tusker  girl with a black eye is refilling mugs for the soldiers from a keg with a stove in top. The men leap to their feet at the sight of the Scout-Captain, none of the Imperial Marines spilling a drop of their whiskey. The Marine's armor is battered and worn, their weapons laying on the tables next to them, while the Church Soldier's armor is largely immaculate and their weapons thrown in a pile on one of the tables next to one of the windows, powderhorns and bullet pouches mixed in with the muskets and scimitars."Officer on deck!" One of the Marines shouts, and in unison their fists slam against their breastplates before being thrust into the air. The Church soldiers touch their fists to their chests right afterwards, one of them flushing and glaring at the others who took a few heartbeats after him to salute."Whiskey?" The tusker girl asks, bowing repeatedly. "Whiskey for the lord?"Bishop FrellaThe crash of the flintlock pistol is thunderous in the room, the cloud of smoke wreathing the Bishop as the bullet hits the tusker woman in the back of the head, killing her instantly. At his command the Church Soldiers accompanying him level their muskets, bayonets gleaming in the dim light, at the Church Soldiers staring at their suddenly dead victim in shock. They look up to see the imposing cleric impassively reloading his pistol, the Church Soldiers with their readied weapons, and the furious Lord Captain."Take these dogs to the stakes!" Lord Captain Hargalan shouts, his face coloring in rage. "Have them given ten stripes before they are purified by flame!" He turns to Frella and bows deeply. "Apologies, Bishop Frella. These men are from Motlatvia, and you know how those creatures are. Sons of low born pigs and diseased trollops whose parents were undoubtably siblings.""Please, your eminence, mercy!" one of the men cries out, fear sweat beading on his forehead as he stares at the bayonets and muzzles leveled at him. "Mercy, in the name of Father Church!""They deserve none, Bishop Frella. Motlativia swine should never have been granted absolution." The Lord Captain snarls, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at the man who spoke.</blockquote>

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