QUASHING RATS UNDER FOOT

[Guest]

QUASHING RATS UNDER FOOT

 

 

 

The crowd was baying. It was a violent, writhing, uncontrollable force that roared around the base of the guillotine beneath the palace. A line of legionnaires, armour sparkling slightly in the midday sun, with spear tips raised towards the sky in a gentle, subtle salute, held back the crowd with interlocked shields and hard grimaces. Blood dusted the gauntlets of a couple - a thin sash of crimson painted the cuirass of another. They were not pristine palace guards but warriors fresh from the battlefield. It had been a battle they had won.

 

On top of the platform stood a group of Renatians. The Archchancellor, Charles Elliott, stood to the side - statuesque posture betraying a confidence of form as he scanned the crowd, chin tilted upwards. The executioner, a dark, thin man who scared across with beady eyes and held onto the side of the guillotine with a scarred and twisted hand, spat down onto the floor. A trio of soldiers stood to the side - guarding the prisoner. Knelt on the floor, head forced roughly beneath the waiting blade, was the features of Charles Halcourt - the former Baron of Vasile.

 

With a sneer, the Archchancellor addressed him. Even as the baying of the crowd rose, whipping about the platform, his words cut above the noise.

 

“You were sworn to us.” He decreed, turning to face the enormous crowds. “You affiliate and swear under those who wish to bring the Kingdom down.” He paused, the volume of the crowd falling to a whisper, held in quiet attention.

 

“This is the fate of lowly rebels.”

 

The words cracked across the square, accompanied a moment after by the fall of the blade. A bloody spray flung forwards, painting the front row of observers, as the man’s head rolled forwards; empty eyes staring aimlessly.

 

With a start the roar of the crowd started up again. A second, more built and distinguished figure was brought forwards. The young man openly sneered behind his chains - proud and defiant even as he was pushed to his knees and forced beneath the bloody, hanging blade. Even as he refused to state his name, forcing forwards a pair of quips, a hurl of rotten vegetables flew forwards from the crowd. A thin trickle of red streamed past his cheek and jaw, the remains of a tomato about his neck.

 

After a moment’s wild exclamation the Archchancellor started his speech again, establishing the identity of the proud young man. A Curonite, he was halfway through his final words before Charles’ hand flashed and the blade fell once more.

 

“Captain of the First Regiment, actuall--.” He whispered between gritted teeth, head flying forwards after a moment. The crowd fell to a deadened hiss, a soft and shared exclamation of breath. Then, a moment later, the cheers began; a chorus of hailing and respect for the King.

“Let this be a message to any who oppose the Kingdom.” Charles sighed, turning about and dusting his hands together. The rebellion had been almost a disappointment; burned out in a moment’s fighting and warfare.

[seannie 7443]

"If Courland is to be designated as Rats, I hereby designate Renatus as Snakes. Go Team Rat!" exclaimed Tommy to his compatriots.

[Noer 577]

1 hour ago, Legoboy7984 said:

Charles Halcourt would raise a brow while he sat in his keep.

 

Vladan finds the undead rather distasteful.

[Guest]

"Calling them rebels gives them dignity," says Kairn. "Perhaps it would be better to call them something else if they are truly this wretched." 

[AndurilGames 9]

"You know we must chop the heads off these snakes, right?" Bayek would whisper to his fellow companions discreetly in the shadows. "Things should get.... interesting, to say the least, from this point forward."

[osumanduas 1442]

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.