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Butchers work...
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Saturday, 15 Oct 2011, 6:59 AM | Message # 1 |
 Lieutenant
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| Butchers work: The Ethnic Cronese pay the price for their people's sanctions.
On Embaril the people were having the yearly harvest piss up, where they celebrated the beauty and subtle wonder of nature by building giant wicker statues and filling them full of as much of it as possible and setting it aflame, then eating until it hurt, and drinking until it didn't hurt anymore. Across the world there were celebrations and toasts were held to the dying of the year as winter edged keenly towards them (Embaril having an elliptical orbit, with no tilt, meaning both hemispheres experienced similar weather at the same time of year, depending on how far from the sun Embaril was.). The feasts were long and hearty, with much ale being drunk and men fighting (only to first blood) all night.
However, in the feasting hall of the small Clan McOrcky, all was not well.. there had been rumblings the past night about the Cronese farming commune half a league from the village who had rejected the invitation of the Clans to join them, and stayed away from the drinking and carousing the previous night. A deputatation had been sent to go and ask why they were not joining the feast.. the warriors were met only by insults and curses from the group of young Cronese men.
The Thane McOrcky bid his warriors ignore the miserable bastards and leave them to their darkness. In his hall there was warmth, joy and mead, wheras in the small cottages of the Cronese there was little joy, for they were known to be a joyless and bellicose people. And this would have been all, save for at the end of the night when many of the men lay face down sleeping on their plates or humping one of the comely servant girls, a half dozen bitter men sat in the corner of the hall, smoking their pipes and discussing the wrongs the Cronese had committed against them. They had been merchants, the Creely Brothers - a name famed across Embaril, shipping cloth to Chandaar in exchange for spirits and yeast, and it had indeed been a profitable enough business - but now they had no hope of future income.
So, making as if to return home to their beds in the village proper, they took up their weapons and quietly left the hall. Descending out in the night they moved towards the reeking muddy huts and petty fields which clung to the bleak hillside up the valley. A few nerfs munched grass quietly as the warriors split into two groups. Two of the warriors moved down to the road to block it, the other four moved to a rocky hillside overlooking the settlement.
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As the warriors moved towards the road they encountered a sleeping Cronese sentry, a young man who had been left with a blaster rifle by a bell on a small wooden construction, the implication being that he should climb the small structure and ring the bell if there was an attack from one of the predatory packs of wolves which preyed these distant settlements.
Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of falling asleep, and one of the two warriors simply pulled his vibrodirk from his belt and moved up behind the Cronese man and slit his throat, his blood gushing hotly to the ground and his throat making a slight gurgle as he raised his hands to his neck in horror, attempting to damn the red flood from his neck. A kick came from behind, knocking the man to the muddy grass with a thud. Another kick to the dying man's belly rolled him on his side. The warrior, named Shane Creeley, the youngest of the brothers seized the man's blaster and spun out its gas chamber and pushed it onto the man's chest. The man blinked as he died and the last thing he heard as Shane wrapped his hands around his weapon was "die with a weapon in your hands, return to your Ancestors".
A fat man emerged behind Shane out of the Dark, he was Ian Creeley, the second oldest and an unsentimental man "Gonnae-no usin' basic, he dornt need tae kin ye - ye soppy dobber. anyway, thes dobber is cronese, an offworlder, they dornt deserve th' rituals." Shane looked downcast, he was the least in favour of tonight's actions, but he was either brothers or blood brothers with all of the men involved, and so their fate was his own, he looked up at Ian and whispered "Whieest doon, i'll tak' th' left side ay th' road."
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On the hillside, Dennis, Louie, Charles and James Creeley lay in wait, one looking at the illuminated chrono on his wrist waiting for the hour of three before they began their assault. Two of the men carried slugthrowers, and one a composite bow in their hands. The oldest, the grave James, sat on a rock with his vibrosword in hand, feeling its satisfying weight on his muscled arms as he considered the night's business.
As the hour struck, James waved at the men to go about their business. Louie had tied a pad of dried moss about each of his first three arrows, this he lit with a lighter purchased on Chandaar and began to plant fire arrows in the thatched rooves of the main barn and the four cottages. For a almost a minute things were quiet as the flames crackled into life in the roofs of the houses, but some seconds later out began to rush people. Men moved towards the well and its hose, hoping to save their homes and animals.
"Kill th' bastards!" yelled James as he saw them begining to leave the burning houses, and blaster rifles began to sing out gunning down the first men out of the door, the harsh cracks lighting up the night as James blew his warhorn before advancing down the hill with Louie, swords and bucklers in hand, giving a bloodcurdling war cry of anger and rage at the Cronese who had destroyed their future.
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Hearing the warhorn and the call to slaughter, Shane and Ian advanced up the road. Shane lead the way holding a blaster pistol in one hand and a crude falchion in the other, Ian hefted in his own hands a Stouker Concussion rifle he had purchased from the black Market on Argai. They advanced towards the village and met a pair of men running down the road towards them. The men were unarmed, undressed and terrified, running and too intent on looking backwards to notice Ian and Shane in the darkness. One was thrown back a dozen meters and his ribcage blasted apart as the Concussion rifle sung out; the other man suffering longer as Shane's rapier took him in the belly before being withdrawn and inserted once again into the man's chest.
Falling to his knees, the man groaned in a Cronese accent "Tionese dogs! We will..." his eyes wide and frightened as Shane leveled his pistol and clicked off a round, sending the man into the afterlife.
"Who's tionese?" spoke Ian loudly as he walked up the road next to Shane.
"Tionese means frae th' allied tion sectur, uir sectur. Didne they teach ye anythin' in skale?" said the younger man, looking catiously around for any more subtle escapists from the slaughter.
"I ainae tionese, aam an embarilite. strange foreign notions these cronies hae eh? Ah am nae a body ay those nobs up oan lianna." came the reply from Iain as they approached the burning village and greeted James and the other three with a smile. Iain spoke cheerfully, slinging up his Concussion rifle on his shoulder "Ah see ye wee jimmies hud aw th' fin awreddy!"
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Meanwhile, the slaughter had gone well, the four Cronese adults in each house had streamed out only to be cut down by flailing Vibroswords or slugs of durasteel. One man had jumped in front of his wife as James approached (he was mystified as to why, she was an ugly sow) holding in his hands a fishing spear, a trivial weapon but theoretically dangerous. James laughed to see the man's spirit and brought his sword up, slicing clean through the three pronged barb of the spear. The man lunged up, aiming to thud the wood into the chest of the Embarilite warrior.
James laughed again, the man was plucky and that made a good fight. He grabbed the end of the wooden pole and with his superior musculature drove it back into the man's face, sending him reeling into his wife. Advancing after the man who was on all fours, his nose a bloody mess, James put his broadsword into the woman's heart before kicking her back against the wall and turning to the man. The woman slumped down, dying without a whimper or cry, James had no pity for women. In Embarilite culture, all men and women were warriors (even if men showed more enthusiasm) and to be unable to fight was a woman was as shameful as being unable as a man.
"Gie up an' fight ye cronese pig. Ah am gonnae cut yer heed frae yer shoolders an' piss doon th' hole. Ah am gonnae rip frae ye yer entrails an' feed them tae th' kimmers ay th' air. nae cheil will moorn yer passin'!" roared James, elated with bloodlust. He saw almost too late the man had been grasping for the fishing spear's tip on the ground and only just had time to swing his sword down into the man's side as he rose, attempting to drive the barb into James' gut.
Reeling away the man was hit in the side, a deep ragged blow which gushed blood onto the ground which was already soaked with so much this night. Reversing his stroke as the man was on all fours again, James swung his broadsword up and putting all his energy into the blow hacked the man apart at the waist. His end was not as quick as one might imagine, nor was it an easy passing.
After all 18 men and women who had been in the settlement had died, the men advanced down the hill into the flamelight, with Ian and Shane arriving a minute later. The butchery had been complete.
Louis spoke to the group "These ur weak men, but Ah fear we main gang noo. Ah doobt thaur is much left fur us haur. lit us lae afair th' reeve sends men doon haur in th' morn."
And thus the men returned to the settlement of Clan McOrcky, getting their horses and returning to the Cronese farming commune just before daybreak. They found one man had not been as dead as they thought, so hung him up from a nearby tree. They searched through the unburned sheds of the Cronese and found buried beneath an anvil a small hoard of credits - which might prove useful and some other small items of value. They also took the rings and wallets from the Cronese men and women. The flames having now died down Ian spend a short amount of time combing through the gutted cottages, finding a few unharmed valuables and silver picture frames melted to plates.
Then they rode quietly into the forested hills which filled much of the continent, planning to carve out a new life as outlaws and renegades, masterless men who payed homage to none, free and noble they would live in one of the small communities deep in the forested valleys below the wide moors...
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The next morning the Thane was awakened early (at 10am!) by his Reeve telling him there had been a "hall burning" (an Embarilite tradition for resolving feuds - rarely used as if any of the clan survived a blood feud would be formed). The Thane authorized men to go to the low hills (the limits of his land) and hang the Creeleys, who he declared outlaws - but they were not found (indeed few men could be roused to chase them, for the distrust for the Cronese had been great). They had ridden to the sanctuary of the hills where the Thane had no jurisdiction, so he simply issued warrants for the men and returned to sleep in the afternoon. Such was life on Embaril.
The distrust of the Cronese did not extend to being averse to robbing their community though, and the unguarded site was robbed of all its remaining agricultural material and all useful things like pumps and roofing metal over the coming days.
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A day later, the ruling Clan Alexander became aware of the trouble which had happened. His father drafted and released the following statement for his son, Warhawk "The Clan Alexander, as do all Embarilites mourn the loss of the Ethnic Cronese community in this incident. We trust in our Thanes and Barons that these murderers will be brought to justice and given the most severe punishment. We call upon all Ethnic Cronese to integrate within the community and become Embarilite - so that they will not be singled out and victimized in future, we find this a deeply sad reminder of what damage ethnic differences can do to a community. A bounty of 5 casks of wine is offered to the man who brings the Creeleys to justice."
However, aside from dispatching a pair of warriors to the hills with orders to find the men (who had planned to go there anyway to see family) the Clan Alexander made little effort to add to the efforts of local efforts to catch the men.
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
Message edited by WarhawkMcCray - Saturday, 15 Oct 2011, 7:08 AM |
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Sunday, 16 Oct 2011, 6:49 AM | Message # 2 |
 Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| There were those who knew the issues between the Cronese Mandate and its neighbors was sure to bring misery and lawlessness to the area, and where problems went, so did the men who cleaned up problems. That was what brought Lieutenant James Tarrington and others from Rhygar's slaving team to Embaril. The word of the deaths of a number of Cronese people in a so-called freak accident, as well as the spreading word of murders on Embaril of Cronese people, drew the group. Near Embaril's trade lanes, a pair of KR-TB Doomtreader transports, accompanied by a pair of PB-950 patrol boats, a squadron of HLAF-500 fighters and a Pursuer-class enforcement ship dropped from hyperspace and oriented themselves on the planet.
Transmission would be sent out to the planetary control, requesting landing clearance.
The Dragon of Zonju V
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| Eli_Fitzgerald | Date: Sunday, 16 Oct 2011, 11:11 AM | Message # 3 |
 Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 355
Status: Offline
| Not too long afterward, a Broadside-class cruiser would appear once again from hyperspace. It kept a considerable distance but made no secret of its presence over Embaril. Captain Romes, who had this routine down now, identified his ship and its purpose to the planet's ground control, such as it was—the ship was the Clement, and its purpose was the pursuit of suspected slavers. Word had spread the Outer Rim that the Clement was offering modest bounties for information on the whereabouts of Rhygar's Doomtreaders, PB-950's, etc., and unless the slaving flotilla had come directly from its base of operations to Embaril—somewhat unlikely—it was possible, if not probable, that the Clement would have pieced together the flotilla's heading from sightings in the area.
As usual, the Clement had come in on Rhygar's heading and was positioned behind his ships. For now, Romes would maintain a considerable distance as he awaited Embaril's answer. Somewhat familiar with the indecipherable Embarilite dialect, Romes had put in at Cadinth and offered a ride to a duo of Embarilite tradesmen in return for interpreting the dialect if need be. And it didn't hurt to be greeted in a familiar tongue.
Eli Fitzgerald
Senator of Ralltiir (10 BBY—Present)
"I was elected to do some flamethrowing in the Senate. To a light a fire under those Senators and make it hot for them."
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Sunday, 16 Oct 2011, 12:21 PM | Message # 4 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 54
Status: Offline
| A badly tempered voice came across the communicator as one of the few orbital comms sats turned and scanned the approaching vessels, relaying the news to a castle on the surface where a badly hung over operator rolled out of bed as an alarm rang and picked up the radio microphone which would relay his communication to orbit and to the approaching vessels.
"Unknoon patrol boat an' fighters, whit dae ye want haur oan embaril? ur ye cronese? we hae nae place fur mercenaries haur..." He had just climbed into bed with the communicator, hoping to get a little more sleep when the alarm rang again to signify another vessel exiting hyperspace. He roared with rage and banged his head against the wall as he stood, further worsening his mood, looking at the console to check what the class of vessel was.
"unknoon broadside-class cruiser.. whit dae ye want? Its early in th' morn tae turn up. whaur ur ye frae?" came the voice across the comm to the broadside. The operator sat with his head on the communications desk, naked, his face smooshed against the console, just wishing the headache and offworlders would go away.
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
Message edited by WarhawkMcCray - Sunday, 16 Oct 2011, 12:21 PM |
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Sunday, 16 Oct 2011, 11:29 PM | Message # 5 |
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Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| The Clement had become a familiar sight to Tarrington; indeed, it had been hard for him to offload the slaves kept on the Doomtreaders to Rhygar's care, but such had been managed and even now, said slaves resided in the belly of the Kiltirin. Tarrington, of course, had been smart enough to do it in deep space well away from traveled lanes before letting himself be seen again. Of course, Ralltiir had little on Tarrington and his men and now, they could prove even less, and as such, Tarrington saw little reason not to continue to Embaril.
"Embaril Control, this is Lieutenant James Tarrington. Word of bounties have reached myself and my independent space force, of troubles on Embaril. We have the proper documentation to declare who we are, and we ask leave to hunt bounties on your fine planet, while abiding by your rules and regulations."
The Dragon of Zonju V
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 1:01 AM | Message # 6 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 54
Status: Offline
| "Ur ye aw oath sworn warriors ay a laird? hae ye practiced th' reit ay igrad? only clansmen main hunt boonties oan embaril, dae ye hear me? Bugger aff, we hae enaw foreigners haur tae lest us a month ay sundays. we arenae interested in offworld boonty hunters an' as only clansmen hae th' reit tae bear arms ye will be huckled an' flogged if ye lain." ranted the tired ground control operator. He had been told to keep all "Independent" or Cronese military craft away, they didnt want spies, rogues etc and so weren't going to take any risks.
Switching off the microphone the man fumbled in his desk, pulling out a bottle of Whisky and pouring a generous measure into a pint glass, then breaking a pair of eggs into it and swirling it around the glass before downing it.. it was going to be a long morning.Added (18 Oct 2011, 2:01 Am)
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An Ethnic Cronese man was found in a field owned by an Embarilite near the field boundary and was accused of moving the boundary. As the Cronese man was not oathable (not a Clansman) he was unable to to overwhelm the Embarilite Oathman's word that he had committed the offence of moving a field boundary.
The man was too much of a coward to submit to the court of swords and so was found guilty of the offence of moving a field boundary (an executable offense by virtue of the fact that stealing land removed the food of another family, meaning they would be likely to die in the harsh winters).
The Cronese man was strung up at the village gallows of Clan Kincavel, his family wept and gnashed their teeth - they would have to survive the long cold winter with no father to go out and hunt. Undoubtedly the woman would be reduced to prostitution or a hasty marriage to an undesirable Clansman to survive. They wept at their fate, but fate was inexorable.
The man's body was hung at the gibbet in chains until the birds of the air picked it apart.
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 1:18 AM | Message # 7 |
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Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| (( Removed. ))
The Dragon of Zonju V
Message edited by Rhygar_Valencia - Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 10:17 AM |
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 1:58 AM | Message # 8 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 54
Status: Offline
| The Embarilite was fed up to the back teeth with this self important Coruscanti bastard "Only clansmen hae th' reit tae bear arms oan embaril. Okay 'en mucker, bear aff oan coorse tae.87 mark 293-2. we hae a wee space station ye main lain ur dock thaur. thes is th' harboor area fur privateers in th' system. parties will be taken via uir shuttles if they wish shair lae. Nae privateers ur tae lain oan embaril. provide us wi' yer manifest an' abilities an' a letter ur marque will be issued presently. Laird Glenbogle will meit ye aboard th' station tae deliver it - tha' moorns nicht. in th' meantime ye can use th' commissaries fur free."
The station would beacon a friendly welcome to the Privateers, it was mostly manned by Expatriot Embarilites who had seen the space outside of Embaril a lot more - and as a consequence spoke better basic.
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
Message edited by WarhawkMcCray - Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 2:01 AM |
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 2:05 AM | Message # 9 |
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Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| (( Removed. ))
The Dragon of Zonju V
Message edited by Rhygar_Valencia - Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 10:18 AM |
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 2:49 AM | Message # 10 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 54
Status: Offline
| On the station they would indeed be welcoming, whisky and ale, food and wine were freely given to the offworlders and they were given comfortable twin rooms to sleep in aboard the station. The following letter of Marque would be delivered. It would need to be signed in triplicate in the presence of two oath men with the Laird Glenbogle who would retain one copy, one would go to the oathmen to hold safely and one would be given to Tarrington,
"Letter of Marque and Reprisal
James Tarrington, You are hereby contracted to serve House Alexander (acting as representative of the People of Embaril) in the capacity of a Private Commodore, to act as an extension of the Embarilite forces when required.
Each man aboard your vehicles will be paid 1KG of Silver a week (to be distributed at your discretion) in addition to this they will be fed, housed and watered at our expense. Medical care will be also provided free of charge by Embaril. The Government of Embaril will also fund fuel, consumables and repairs used and incurred by your vessels in the course of their duty.
In times of peace you will defend Embaril from attackers and aid the Clan Alexander in enforcing the security of Embarilite space and interests.
If war is declared (on another world or Sector) or a declaration of war is made against Embaril, you will be obliged to depart Embaril and make raids upon enemies military interests, shipping and facilities. You will be awarded a 75% Prize on all captured material.
Signed
Jock McCray
Laird Alexander
*A gap was left to sign*
Private Commodore"
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
Message edited by WarhawkMcCray - Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 2:50 AM |
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| Eli_Fitzgerald | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 8:47 AM | Message # 11 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 355
Status: Offline
| I clearly would have intervened before much of this happened yet I've not had as much as 2 days to do so. I really do object to this.
Eli Fitzgerald
Senator of Ralltiir (10 BBY—Present)
"I was elected to do some flamethrowing in the Senate. To a light a fire under those Senators and make it hot for them."
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 9:20 AM | Message # 12 |
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Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| I don't mind backing it up. )) Added (18 Oct 2011, 10:20 Am)
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Let's say we take it back about three posts. Good with you, Warhawk? ))
The Dragon of Zonju V
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| WarhawkMcCray | Date: Tuesday, 18 Oct 2011, 10:12 AM | Message # 13 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 54
Status: Offline
|  ))
Alexander "Warhawk" McCray
Earl of Embaril
Thane of Brightdeen
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| Rhygar_Valencia | Date: Friday, 21 Oct 2011, 7:12 AM | Message # 14 |
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Lieutenant colonel
Group: Users
Messages: 110
Status: Offline
| (( Anything happening here? ))
The Dragon of Zonju V
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| Eli_Fitzgerald | Date: Friday, 21 Oct 2011, 9:12 AM | Message # 15 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 355
Status: Offline
| (( It's okay. I'll just keep a distance and hover around watching until or unless things become belligerent or attention is directed to the Clement. I just can't do the Scotspeak.. I have no idea how long it would take me to put together even a simple greeting of the sort we can just assume those Embarilite tradesmen on the Clement gave to ground control. ))
Eli Fitzgerald
Senator of Ralltiir (10 BBY—Present)
"I was elected to do some flamethrowing in the Senate. To a light a fire under those Senators and make it hot for them."
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