On Mercatorii Atrocities - Heinous Sadistic Men Glorifying Gore & Torture.

[christman 2219]

There would be, in the first night after the attack, pure silence from the room of Mary Amaricius. Her right hand cradled close to her chest, as she sent death threatening glares to any object that dared move or sway in the night wind.

 

Her mind remained on high alert, as fingers scraped and scratched the flesh of her forehead. Small layers of flesh pulling up to rest under her nails.

 

"Monsters, pathetic ones at that. Kidnapping me, defenceless. And what does the ISA say in return, how does the MoJ address these travesties?! They don't! They do nothing," Hatred vile would spit from her mouth as she uttered quietly to herself. A seething racing through her bones, letting the emotion overtake the fear that reared prior. 

[Viraj Dobrial 319]

Having just disembarked the ferry from Varhelm, Archadon Dimitri would head off into the small duchy of Elysium, noting the peculiar lack of people – compared to his hometown of Province. Along the way to the tavern, he passed by a public notice board, littered with varying literature. Naturally, he believed it might get more attention than some random wall next to a bar, so he took a small break on his mission to look upon the different articles. One piece held a familiar sight – the Orenian flag plastered on the hat of a familiar masked man. Upon reading the poster, he took down the attached pamphlet, looking once more upon the poster.

 

Strange, he thought to himself. That girl looks... oddly familiar. But it was just a drawing, so he shrugged it off, sitting down in front of the board and opening the missive.

 

. . .

 

Screeching, Archadon would begin slamming his foot into the public board, tearing at the notices pinned to it. Seeing her name was enough to enrage him – reading further only fueled that fire. He tore at the poster that pictured her and the MRA soldier, throwing its scattered pieces onto the ground. Quickly, he armed himself with the gauntlet that had carried him so far already – clicking a few times, before a stream of fire engulfed the poster in a vortex of heat, turning it to brittle, blackened ash.

 

He thought of the things that would happen to him – happen to his comrades – if this traveled back far enough. But the fear he felt towards his prolonged safety was ultimately outmatched by the rage he felt for the masked man that did this. Untouchable. Unidentifiable. Unapproved. Why didn’t he ask for approval? Why didn’t he mention he was going out? Why the **** would he go back on everything they’d all come together on – to maintain at least some level of decency in their dealings? “No women and children,” they had agreed upon.

 

Unnoticed by Archadon, a woman had approached behind him. She stood back, frozen in fear, quietly motioning to another that stood on the opposite side of the public board, who instinctively brought out an axe more than half her size, holding it before herself.

 

“Please, calm down! Getting upset won’t help!” the woman behind him fearfully cried out. But Archadon could not help it, as he continued to flog himself in front of the two.  “Oh… Oh GOD… what did they do to her… where is she…” he muttered rasping speech muffled by his helm.

“Who is he yelling about?” one asked another.

“Mary”, he’d blurt out, on the verge of collapsing. “They hurt Mary… Oh… Oh my God, I’m going to ******* kill him,” he muttered to himself in increasing anger, as he began backing away from the women.

 

Concerned, one of the women approached him, as a third came up to the quickly growing group. “Hey. They’re not going to hurt anyone else; we’ll stop them.”

 

“Monsieur,” one started, “we can alert the rangers if someone is in danger, aye? Let’s not lose our heads here.”

 

Lose our heads.

"The MRA has been taking Norlanders - torturing, maiming them. Mary Amaricus was one of them."

Lose our hea

"They took her? Right now?"

Lose our h

"No... I'm sure that, by now, the Duke would've done something about this."

Lose ou

Spoiler

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At this, Archadon trumped his previous howls with an undefinable, inhuman scream, piercing the ears of those around him. A few of the Rangers had taken note of the growing group, only accentuated by the screech, and were heading down the hill from the keep. Desperate, he jumped backwards, plunging himself into the murky stream behind him, letting his form sink to the bottom. From under the water, he could see the silhouette of a crowd peering inwards at him; then, slowly, their shadows dispersed, and Archadon was alone, yet again. From under the water, he began kicking back, going deeper and deeper into the waters.

 

 . . .

 

Click. Click. Click. eeeEEEE

The flames engulfed the Orenian banner Archadon had stuffed down the backplate of his armor. Its ashes flew out off the top of the mountain, fluttering in the wind over the bay that separated Varhelm and Elysium. He watched silently as they drifted away before he pulled himself up and began the hike down. He needed answers.

[SadBeanQueen 209]

The Chieftainess of Clan O'Hara winces as she reads the missive. Her eyes gaze over the gut-wrenching words describing the assault of her friend Mary and so many other Elysians. Her stomach turns at the thought of how the ISA soldiers stormed her own home in order to capture, and quite possibly, torture or murder her then 10 year old son. "They're all the same... those Canonist scum... I hope they burn to the ground... If not, I will do it myself..." She mutters with a frown as she grabs a whetstone to sharpen her thanic-steel axe. 

[TeawithFrisket 2615]

*As she reads the papers she comes across this statement by the duke, as she reads she grabs her long sword and looks at her husband as he plays with the kids* "To be a ranger is to protect, to be some one of the MRA is to be nothing but worse and lower than a scum, if any mra soldiers were to step in our land, they will meet the end of my blade and my clan will so swear the same. *She puts down the paper and begins to signs more things.

[Heart_Spam 281]

Bile rose in Matilda's throat as she read the missives once through. That was enough; she swallowed hard as she slowly folded the papers and laid them away. Her face hardened, her knuckles clenched. She said nothing, but to those who knew her, they would notice the anger thinly veiled.

[sarahbarah 5008]

Amicia de Astrea of Elysium - a medic tending to Mary, wept at the mere sight of her as she arrived - bloodied and bruised from head to toe. The young woman gazed upon her, shakily clearing her throat as she briefly deliberated on what monster could have committed such a heinous act. Thereafter, thus began a surgery that would determine the fate of Mary's right arm. Amicia tried to salvage what she could of Mary's mangled limb through multiple hours of surgery. "You're going to be fine, Mary . . just fine, I promise you." Amicia uttered reassurances and promises that she wasn't entirely sure she could even fulfill. Suture after suture, bandage after bandage, but the damage would never fully be undone. 

 

That night, Amicia left Mary under the care of her father as she made her way upstairs to get some well-needed rest. Her efforts to rest were fruitless, however. The image of Mary's afflictions were engraved into the forefront of her mind, and would most certainly be for a long time.

 

She did not sleep that night. 

[Crymson 481]

Theroden shakes his head in disgust as word spreads of the true depths of Imperial savagery. Seated in the  tavern, his gaze moves about to the gathered denizens, peaceful folk who simply sought to live their lives without fear. "This is why there can be no compromise with the Horenites. Their claims of a righteous war are only a mask, a lie used as an excuse to terrorize innocents. What manner of peace can ever be achieved with such folk? Mayhaps if they would at the least acknowledge the misdeeds of their hired blades, one could respect some of them." He shakes his head as he muses further. "No, not even that would be enough. There must be recompense, though it won't fully repair what's been done."

[LupinCrystal 168]

Amethyst shakes her head reading "I watched this woman grow up. To have her treated in such a way makes me sick to my stomach. Wait till i get my hands on the bastard who did this." She slams the papers on the table in anger "This will not go unpunished and i can promise that" Her body shaking in anger

[Fishingrobyn 65]

Bjorn Grandaxe sits over the fire inside this home, the flames flickering as he studied them. He lets out a small huff "Du teh bastards realleh care for blood tha' they would kill innocents teh get et?" he stand walking to his window, placing a hand on wall he looks out over Hefrumm. His eyes dancing with hatred "Their evil knows no bounds, may teh Braths smite them teh the hell they belong to." 

[Pakkleaf 67]

A certain diplomat would be sitting in her home looking over the missive and enjoying tea with her fiancee. She had a few various feelings about it.

 

"I agree its good to call out the MRA. Eugeo rarely speaks without his facts in order. Though they do act on their own, with or without Orens blessing. So I wouldn't be so quick to hold Oren accountable."

 

She set down the missive before going to pack a bag. She felt it was time for a visit.

[TaytoTot 1127]

Syllana Brylynn reads over this missive, an anger growing in her eyes. "ULLRAN!" She screamed, seeing words of her dearest cousin getting hurt and glorified. "What is wrong with those damned valah? They hurt my cousin and laugh. LAUGH?" Her fists clenched, anger only in her thoughts now. "Why did Haelun'or even think of allying with these people?"

[OmegaIcarus 13]

Hannas Offarus looks over the missive, reading it intently, and grumbling at nearly each sentence. After looking over his notebook about the different papers the missive mentions, he sits in a still, quiet rage. "The MRA need to be stopped, one way or another." he says as he sets the papers and notebook aside, picking up his sword and sharping the edge slowly. "Canonist be damned, if any of them openly support the MRA, they are no better."

[grnappa 1230]

The aging Count of Valles read the missive as he scratched his wrinkled chin, leaning back in his wooden chair. There was much to contemplate over the past year. "These MRA lads really do have a rather unconventional stance on warfare." He'd note to himself.

"The simple fact of the matter is that the deaths of Norlanders was brought entirely upon themselves. So many lives would have been saved if the King did nie declare war. But he did, and his allies have all left him for dead. He had a choice to surrender and cease these hostilities, however he has failed to do so."

"How can a nation who claims to be a great power fail to protect its own citizenry from a few poorly equipped rabble-rousers? I guess they didn't expect that people from both sides suffer in war, not just the enemy." He'd scoff at the ridiculousness of the whole affair.

"Next time, don't declare war."

[Adstrom 547]

One, Esmond Reede, sat pondering by the roaring fire of his cracked stone forge. He rested upon his knees, just before the anvil, atop a thick green carpet, his mind wandering about as his emerald eyes watched the flame lick against the edges of the cold rock with ravenous hunger. This forge, which had become a home for the man as of late, served as a reprieve from all tribulation for him. He leaned back against the cool metal of the anvil as he raised his right hand, a wispy jade enveloping his palm as he flicked the base of his wrist, a large leather-bound tome levitating over to him, the likes of which containing many snippets of pamphlets, informational papers, and parchment of similar variety.  He cracked open the heavy book, turning the pages to the newest accumulation of writings. His glistening emerald swiftly glossed over the contents of this particular paper, his form suffused with a silent and bubbling rage. His thoughts wandered to how easily the targets of these horrific monsters could have been anyone, his own love, his daughters, his friends. The realization dawned upon him like a burning blaze, not unlike the roaring heat which flickered before him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he moved to close the tome, though a final thought pervaded his mind. He recollected the events that had transpired in Talon's Port a few Saint's Days prior, and was wordlessly elated that he had left the port's waters with crimson coated steel, his left hand moving subconsciously to give the pommel of his sheathed falchion a satisfactory thwack of his palm. With this motion came a conclusive and soft smirk which spread quickly across his visage as he stowed away the book, returning once more to his fireside contemplation. 

[Niru 92]

Takumi would happen to notice the missive clipped against the tree near his favorite spot in Elysium "Uh.. Who placed this here?"  He takes a quick glance around just before reading the contents of the page. "Oh-" His face turns cold, as he remembers the turn of events that occurred these past few months just after settling here in norland. He'd sigh "Honestly though.. I never really thought I'd cared about any of the stuff that's been happening around here.. or to anyone around me, but-" He frowns at the thought of it, as he grits his teeth in turn "phew- They must’ve grew on me."  He mutters to himself, followed by a stretched smile just before turning back to his usual blissful expression "welp, I guess I'll go find someone to pester! " He says in a jesting tone just as he wanders off, hands tightened in a grip.