OOC: Tags
@Rhi-Rhi and
@Saber-Five
Skies were scorched with the bellowing cries of men, their faces slick with the sweat and dirt of work, and their voices laced in blood. What had begun as a peaceful rally in the castle square outside the front of the Grand Duke's palace, in a far away land... in the North... in Connlaoth, turned into something wicked. It was a poison he could only preach against. And though his eyes burned with the pain of those suffering in this war, he could not stop what it had evolved into. Not after the Grand Army stepped in, their guns spitting fire into the crowds of many.
'Men are Fools. And I am but one of them. Yet I can only continue on the path in which ignites me.'As the men screamed in agony, carrying on for an end, for peace, and for more blood....
He had to wonder...
'Oh, Angsar.... Forgive us all but we are men plagued with hatred so consuming its spread like a wildfire and plagued every inch of this blessed nation. And here we stand, to speak of peace, when all sides can do nothing but call out for war. I ask for you to forgive them, to help them see, that we are but men, not untamed beast. And that the illness of war be banished. For this to you, I fervently pray.'He witnessed the horror first hand as the cannons of the army boomed into the crowd in Reajh. Blood and arms splattered across the square, breaking up cobblestone and bones.
"What are you doing!?" the priest's eyes were wild. What was happening!? Why were the men attacking with war weapons when the people only protested with angered words, and a few- stones? "There are women! There are children!"
But the screams of soldiers and the cries of the fallen swallowed out the logic as the square was soon swollen in dust.
How many more canons would fire? How many more innocent would die? A bullet singed his shoulder, the closeness ringing in his ear as he let out a cry and gripped his shoulder as blood came warmly through his fingers. He nearly dropped the Book of the Word of Angsar from where he stood, bracing himself against his make shift pulpit. More canons were fired, and the ground shook, threatening to over turn him.
He couldn't believe this madness. He didn't want war. He wanted peace!
And despite the insanity that thundered around him, he got back up again onto his pulpit, words spitting from his mouth until he could no longer scream-
"WE ARE HERE FOR PEACE!" he bellowed. "WE DO NOT WANT THE BLOOD OF OUR MEN ANY LONGER! WE RALLY FOR PEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAACE! FOR PEACE IN THE NAME OF ANGSAR! IN THE NAME OF OUR PEOPLE! WE CALL OUT FOR NO MORE BLOOOOOOD!"
But perhaps it was all for nothing? Perhaps it was foolish to think that, even with a just avatar as Angsar, his own empire had been built on blood. War... it was a funny thing. A necessary evil, perhaps. But this evil... this war...
He lost sleep at night, tossng and turning over the very idea of it as his stomach burned him from the inside out. This was a war he knew even Angsar himself would condemn.
But he couldn't give up. He couldn't run away. And the sight of those who suffered carried him through the fray, that even long after the dust began to swell, his hoarse voice called out...
"Peace! We are here... here for PEACE!"
And it was the sound of boots crunching across the broken cobblestone that had him turned. And there he saw a group of soldiers look at him. They were angry, they were worn, and though they were armed with weapons, and he had nothing but 'Angsar's Bible' in his arm, he turned to them stlll, and used what voice he had left.
"It is never too late!" he croaked. "Peace must come to Connlaoth! Peace before the death of our brothers. Peace before the death of our sisters, our mothers and our wives. Our children! Peace before.." he went on shakily, weak. "Before we make our own nation fall! And Angsar's heaven turns to Hell."
And he wondered if the men had pitied him, staring at him as he was half draped over his pulpit, as they simply walked by. By then, the square had emptied...
and what was left in the dust were the simple soldiers to clean up the mess that a rally of peace had erupted.
But his story hardly ended here. In fact....
This was only the beginning. For though the day had come and gone and more riots begun to errupt soon after, he retired to his lakeside home near the Matron. And from his porch at night, he watched the moon waver against restless waters. Clouds were moving in, but they did not snuff out the stars, the stars in which he looked upon, to stars to which he prayed.
He had gone out to his porch, the soft chirp of crickets, though calming, only reminded him of the calm before a storm. And even through it, he heard the foot falls approach. But he did nothing. The candle along the railing had nearly gone out by now. But he didn't think it would matter to replace it. And when the foot falls stopped, he tensed, but did not turn around and kept his eyes upon the lake.
"Father Danning Gates?" came a gruff voice from the darkness.
For a quiet moment, the priest enjoyed the tranquility of the Matron lake, and how the stars danced across its surface. It was peaceful, but it was just a reflection. The real peace was in the stars above. And he had to wonder when that peace would come to earth. Or were all men doomed by the damnation of anger that tainted their blood?
"Yes? I am Father Gates." he replied. And those would be the last words he'd speak in a good long while.
----------
A lethargic, creaking moan lulled him awake, into a world where everything, even his vision, hurt. And when the same creak came again, he felt himself being rocked in a new direction. There was something cold, and what sounded like a metal rattle, though in the same breath, it also had a sweet chiming ring to it. But it was when something tickled his arm did he jerk around to see...
A rat! A rat on his arm! He let out a cry, and jerked even more, despite the protests of his body, and the apparent, heavy metal chains that bound him, upside down int he hall of the boat...
With a hundred other men and women bound like himself.
His eyes were wild, and he moved futilely against his chains, as he simply swung back and forth at his own avail- and at the mercy of the slow rocking of the ship. And though he spent countless days.. weeks in the hull....
The worst part of these days where to watch the sufferings of men.
He didn't know when the boat had stopped rocking, or when there was the call of birds at the bank their ship had now perched. But when light flooded down into the room, those weary men in chains who remained alive could only lift their heads blindly, as they were released from where they hung, and whipped to walk, even though most were too weak to even stand.
Outside the boat the sun burned hotter than he'd ever known, and the world glowed yellow, an ironic contrast to what he pictured might be hell. There were trees with throngs and strange birds with long legs, and as he stumbled across the gang plank onto land....
Despite the thick grasses...
There was sand. Sand all around.
I'm gonna stop this here or else this post will become a monster XD Feel free to set up your character scenarios as you see fit~ I'll eventually get Danning towards the Colosseum lol.
