A Furious Vengeance

[iris1612 1780]

 

Nikolai Rykov had come far in these past few months. He went from a peasant and a lumberjack to a bandit, a murderer, a slayer of kings, even. He was surprised no one had removed him from the Courland palace, all things considered, but that he attributed to his careful use of masks and disguises when doing less than ethical activities.
    He idly watched the Court session go through; it was held by a man who he’d identified as Frederick Baden-Staunton, in lieu of the King himself, probably because there was nothing worth the King’s time brought before the court. He had been viewing for a few hours, and the line had dwindled as evening set on, until he spied a familiar face. It couldn’t be.. No, but it was! A smile broke across his face as his old friend Pasquale Calabreeni entered the courtroom, and he walked over, ignoring the court session which he’d just interrupted “Pasquale, my old friend!” The Illatian turned, a smile erupting over his face as he went to embrace his Raevir friend “If it ain't my good friend, hey yo I got that ‘package of cookies’ for ya.” he stated, handing him a cloth covered object. Nikolai sheathed it promptly after.
    Nikolai turned away from his friend, walking up the dais towards the Staunton. This made the man visibly nervous, but Nikolai paid no heed to it as he approached relaxed and unarmed, until he was just in front of Frederick. “So, which Staunton are you? You don’t look like King Toby, though I’ve never seen him myself.” The man on the throne opened his mouth to respond, but they were both interrupted by a rasp of steel. Klaus de Savin had drawn a steel battleaxe and was leveling it against Nikolai “Get off the podium!” He shouted, trying to conceal the fear in his voice. 
The woodsman stepped back, drawing his own axe, the enchanted runes pulsing a soft purple color “I wouldn’t be making threats if I were you.” The men standing before him had no way to know it, but the battle-axe in his hands was the very same that had removed the heads of King Lothar of Lotharingia, Ser Bruce Hornigold, Romanos Palaiologos, and countless others.
Pasquale stepped up from the other side of the podium, drawing his own sword “You bozo brained piece of garbage, you ain't taking one of my buyers dead or alive!” They stood in silence for a moment, no one daring to break the stand-off, but no one spoke. Ser Gared Emmark suddenly burst into the room, drawing a sword as he saw the weapons, and Slavomir, one of Pasquale’s men, brought a heavy Carbarum mace into his hands. 
    And then it all erupted. Nikolai swung his axe at the Staunton, but was forced to retreat by a counter from Klaus de Savin. He and Ser Gared were protecting the Staunton Prince as he ran, fleeing the room and the palace entirely! Slavomir’s heavy mace felled the de Savin lordling, sending him reeling to the ground as the three pursued the retreating Stauntons, battling them all the way out of the palace and into Alexandria. Ser Gared did an admirable job of protecting his quickly retreating liege, but was overcome and felled by Pasquale’s quick swordsmanship, narrowly avoiding being beheaded by Nikolai. They chased Frederick out through the city, but alas, the Prince who’d sought to attack him was much more adept at running than he was at fighting. The three arrived in the main square, shouting.
    “Gared Emmark and Klaus de Savin are dead! Prince Frederick Staunton has fled his own home after attacking us! No Staunton dogs shall be suffered to live!” With that, they ran towards the gates, their hearts beating as fast as possible. They had lived through the assault, they had beaten off their attackers, and they had escaped, from the very heart of the Courlandic Empire. Nikolai tilted his head back once he was a few metres outside the gates, and noticed something strange. They were being pursued, a large group had followed them from the city, but the men weren’t attacking--no, they were cheering! They were following the three, growing more and more in numbers, shouting out defiant cries against the Courlandic tyrants. They halted at the top of the hill, regrouping themselves, surveying their numbers.
     Gaylord de Felsen sallied up on his warhorse, taking charge of the group who stood in hushed silence, unsure of what to do next. “They're amassing troops in Alexandria right now. Give them enough time and they'll come out to kill you three. If you want to run, so be it, but I know that with the men we have here, we can take those inbred Staunton cock suckers and send them to meet their heathen god!” He raised his sword and the band in front of him as well, a ragged cheer swelling from the ranks as they lifted their weapons and charged back down the hill. Most of these men had never met each other, but they all had in common one thing: fury. Fury at the Courlandic scum who murdered the High Pontiff in cold blood. Fury at the vile Staunton soldiers who burned down the city of Saint Karlsburg after it was surrendered to them, massacring scores of innocent civilians. Fury at the evil regime of warmongers and cowards who sought to murder everyone not wearing green and black. And today, those very Courlanders would see the power of the fury they had evoked.
    The battle had been raging for about two hours, and victory was in sight for the rebels. They had already butchered the small enemy cavalry force, and now they held outside the walls, waiting. The Courlanders stood on the walls, firing arrows at the insurgents, but they were too little and too late. One of the dissenters had found his way inside the guardhouse, and grabbed the gate controls, opening the city for all with a triumphant shout!
    And in a few short minutes, it was over. The Courlanders stood no chance against the men they faced, and were cut down with ease. Alchemist’s Fire exploded in the square, the desperate attempts of a dying soldier to keep the rebels at bay, but it was no good. The guards and soldiers alike were slain, while civilians watched helplessly from their homes. It was almost a sad sight for the woodsman, but it amused him. The rebels vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and he raised his axe, shouting to the civilians of the city
    “Remember this, Staunton dogs! Your arrogance will be your downfall." With that, Nikolai Rykov turned and walked out of the city as night fell. He could only hope that he was making a difference, but he knew it was right. 

 

((Thanks for the fun rp and pvp, hope yall enjoyed it. Feel free to pm me if there's mistakes that need correcting but I also ask that you take them with a grain of salt, i wrote it at midnight because i had **** to do this morning and no time to write, only to post.
 

[shortchangehero 4217]

 

Rumor quickly spreads of the Felsenic sniper. . .

 

-=-

 

Count Arthur Horen would pout upon hearing the news:

 

"Purchase some of the finest mercenaries we can to help defend the city of Aleksandria for the next saint's year! They are good friends and do not deserve to be treated like this!"

[Heero 4092]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.