Sign Up The Great Tribulation [M-V]

[DeathKnight]

[color=crimson][center]The issues | I | and yet|
involving | am | I feel
[b][this planet][/b]
has hope | in totality | are great
to survive. | honor me. | and deadly.[/center]

[center]To describe | Existence | Yet for
why | in | you
[b][this era][/b]
starts | remains | withers
a struggle. | transitory. | saddens me.[/center]

[center]Blood red | Tears | Empires
droplets | unending | crumbling
[b][fall upon me][/b]
the old order | flooding | infecting me
is no more. |everything. | infecting me.

infecting me infecting me infecting me

[b]INFECTING ME[/b][/center]

-~-

Introduction: The Siege

-~-

I stood in the watchtower and reached up to my face mask, pulling it tighter in an attempt to keep the smoke out. Impossible considering my watchtower was situated a few hundred feet from the wall of flame. The orange glow from conflagration still seeped through my tinted goggles as a thousand acres of dead forest burned across the horizon. The heat was intense at this distance and sweat drenched my uniform.

Behind me you could hear chaos. There were thousands of soldiers and thousands more citizens. I could hear citizens and soldiers yelling at each other. Someone was crying. You could feel the fear rise in waves from them into the sky. Around me there were rows upon rows of musket men at the ready for the onslaught. I yearned for serenity and got little of it. This was the dramatic battle for Italia. Not for mankind, not for humanity. There were still stronger nations who could do that.

This.. was [i]our[/i] stand.

A blanket of smoke had spread out since the fires had been set and completely blotted out any hint of azure. Was there a day anymore?

'A silly question' I thought to myself and uneasily glanced up.

Distant bells began to ring. Southward, down the rows of stone watch towers following the curve of the city they began to go off. I reached for my musket and readied it. The men down below near the massive fire pit were scrambling backwards from their positions following the plan but I shifted nervously at how frightened they were. Peering off across the horizon all I could see was the smoke and flame.

'What could they be running from?' I thought. 'Wait.. what is that?"

Through the columns of gray a blackness broke through. As far as they eye could see a black cloud was swarming over the forests overtaking the smoke and rapidly approaching the fire pit. It stopped at the edge of the forest. It hovered in stillness above the flickering flames below. It must have been a couple of miles before I could see it's end and it seemed to be as tall as the tallest watchtower. Wispy black tendrils snaked out of it and snapped erratically in the air.

On the body of the cloud there appeared a horizontal slit and slowly it grew. It seemed to be ten to fifteen feet across when it stopped. It opened revealing a massive, bloodshot eye. It's iris was the color of blood and it looked around rapidly before focusing on me. Across the face of the cloud between the tendrils dozens of these eyes opened, all of them the same crimson color.

I heard screams to my left and turned towards them. Tendrils were wrapping around the watchtower closest to me similar to a vine. They shot all along it's surface upwards and downwards as the occupants inside opened fire. Where the bullets hit the tendril seemed to burn similar to paper, pieces of him turning to ash and ember before a rush of darkness overtook the wound. The tower was completely wrapped and with one great constriction it was crushed into dozens of pieces. The tendrils grasped some of the falling pieces and hurled them into our defensive line, smashing through groups of musket men and towers. I knew when one went far into town because even over the roar of the battle I swear I could hear the screaming. Of mothers, of fathers, of children.

Gunfire erupted all across the line as the musket men let off their volley, thousands of tiny 'burns' forming across the creature's front. The eyes that were hit clenched shut tightly, black blood squirting down from it onto the ground. The eye directly in front of me narrowed and my tower shook as tendrils wrapped around it. I had time to grab my supply of cartridges before I heard the noise of cracking masonry below me. I tumbled as the tower tilted and righted myself before leaping out of the window. I rolled as I landed striking my back harshly. I was left momentarily stunned by the sharp paints.

Having recovered, I stood using my musket as a crutch. I was surrounded by chaos. As far as I could see down the line towers were being crushed and dozens of boulder sized rocks smashing men and buildings. Those done reloading from the opening fire shot off their muskets again and I turned to look as hundreds of tiny burns appeared again only for the darkness to fill the wound almost immediately.

"Hopeless."

The black pools of blood from damaged eyes had grown to the point that small creeks were pouring into the fire pit. Massive as it was I wondered if it could ever be flooded as the blood seemed endless. I noticed the pools were bubbling and a look of horror came over my face as a hand shot up from a pool and braced itself on the ground. It pulled itself up and stood looking straight up the fire pit.

It had no form to speak of and was made of the blood itself. A single eye similar to the one that spawned it was on it's head which was it's only distinctive feature. Another hand shot up from the pool and another from a different pool. A hundred of them must have been spawning from the pools before my eyes. They launched themselves up the slope of the fire pit and sprinted with inhuman speed towards me.

Another volley of fire erupted out at that precise moment cutting into the mob of monsters and yet dozens of them still remained. I drew my sword and cleanly cut one in half, the two pieces falling to the ground into a pool. The pools coagulated and an arm shot out once more. Shocked, I looked up to see a wall of them upon me.

"All infantry fall back!" I heard an officer yell as I braced myself. "Vulcan cannons to positions!"

I whipped around and desperately sprinted towards the town staring at dozens of musket men doing the same thing. Through the cracks in the retreat the Vulcan cannons crept forward- they were heaping monstrosities of metal, our special weapon. The height of a man with a bulbous growth at it's rear that stored a flammable liquid. It was capable of unleashing a stream of fire for several seconds.. enough to destroy anything in it's path.

"If this cannot turn the tide then we are finished!" I heard one of the retreating musket men ahead of me yell.

Too far ahead of me. I knew the blood creatures were upon me, I felt warm liquid grasp my ankle and I was drug onto the ground, knocking the wind out of me. It flipped me over and I stared up into it's eye as numerous other creatures raced past. It raised it's hand up to strike me and instinctively I covered my face with my arms.

"Fire at will!"

A stream of flame shot over me, hitting the back of the creature that was hunched over me. I felt the flames singe the tops of my arms and I screamed in pain. My scream was overtaken by the most deafening, shrill shriek as the creature was lit aflame. That scream was echoed from all around me as the entire mob of them were destroyed by the Vulcan cannon.

I was taken to the rear with the rest of the casualties. The blood.. it was freely flowing back here. It was sickening. Missing arms, crushed limbs. The worst I saw was a young man who must have been twenty laying on a table with bloody stumps for legs, droplets of blood falling from the table. I was taken past him to a point with a view of the front. I couldn't decide if I was thankful for this or not. Observing the state of our defense it seemed the tendrils had destroyed almost all of the towers. They paused and changed direction, snaking upwards towards the gray sky. They bled into the gray above, each one's connection making me feel more anxious.

The smokey gray clouds darkened quickly to a stark black. I sat up slowly staring at this, my mouth agape. A familiar slit slid across it, much larger than the others. It slowly opened and glared down upon the town unmoving. I groped around me for a musket as rain began to fall.

Black rain. Black blood. Pools were forming everywhere along every street.

A thunderous crash sent plumes of debris hurtling across the sky. Shielding my eyes from the rain I gazed upon dozens of tendrils snaking down from the heavens. They would raise up and smash down onto buildings or just rake across entire sections of the city. I saw one whip down and wrap itself around a soldier before throwing him down onto the group of soldiers he had been plucked from, routing the entire group instantly.

'Where are they running to?' I asked myself. I realized the implications of that and my heart sank.

The first blood creatures began to raise from the puddles. In every direction, down every street. There was no front line anymore, the Vulcan cannons were being swarmed from behind. Many desperate musket men were fighting valiantly. They were simply outmatched. The creatures refused to die to swords and I watched soldier after soldier fall in grisly ways. One was smashed into the ground and the blood creature jumped on to him. His body enveloped the soldier and I could hear a gurgling scream of pain. When the blood creature got up all I saw was a skeleton with bits and pieces of flesh attached to it, a single eyeball still stuck in it's socket looking out.

The casualty area was being overrun. Blood creatures descended on the wounded like vultures. I took my sword and pointed it to my heart with a firm grip. Within the screams, within the dying, within the sound of the city being destroyed I spoke my last words.

"This is a nightmare."

-~-

The Situation: An Empire's Last Breath

-~-

It is referred to as the Scourge. Most out of the circle of nobility were certain that it had been summoned by the Caliphs of the East, specifically the vilified Caliphate of Levant. Within the upper echelons of the Empire of Italia however they knew that communications with the Caliphs had stopped two months ago. All vessels that drifted near to Afrika, Anatolia and Levant never returned except in the form of drifting wreckage.

Swarming up the Italian peninsula it thundered into Calabria and Apulia like a great tide. The defensive effort at Salerno was planned to be the turning point against the Scourge. The material, manpower and effort lost at Salerno destroyed the spirit of the Italian Nation. That loss was something we could never recover, no matter how much manpower or material we mustered. After the total loss of every man, woman and child that had lived within Salerno the Empire responded weakly with a long series of fighting retreats northward leaving the civilians to mostly fend for themselves.

At least two million refugees poured northward just ahead of the front line desperately racing against the continually collapsing front behind them. The number of them that died is unknowable. Exhaustion. Starvation. Disease. Murder. All that I can say is that by the time the three major refugee camps at Milan, Venezia and Turin had formed their combined populations were estimated to be, optimistically and at the most, one million civilians. One out of every two people that had fled were gone.. ignoring those who stayed in the cities or were conscripted into the army.

Yes, the army. The losses in the army were horrendous. No longer were Italia's proud musket men standing and fighting in the face of any danger. Hopelessly outmatched by the Scourge morale plummeted. Insubordination could quickly domino into mutiny and in the closing months, along the river Po, civil war amongst the military broke out even as the horrors of the Scourge crept forward spawning it's nightmares yearning for blood.

The German Federation had sealed it's borders, rendering any entry from the east to the North unusable. The French Theocracy took it one step further, invading into the frontier lands of Italia to acquire a more defensible position along the final portions of the Alps. There were rumors of some people finding success at sneaking across the Austrian State border to the east but most who tried found a quick end at the hands of Federation authorities. To the west, with the Holy Army constructing a massive series of fortifications there was even less hope of sneaking by.

As the army of nightmares crosses the river Po and eliminates what remains of Italia's armies the clock ticks down for the refugees all along her borders..

-~-

You sit in front of your tent drinking from a tin cup. The water tastes nastier than usual and your face contorts in disgust. It would be tolerable if it wasn't rationed to where this was your only drink for another six hours. Ignoring your food, some kind of gruel, you stand up and look across the thousands upon thousands of tents that are spread out in every direction. Coming to the refugee camp north of Milan was a difficult decision to make. You had fled after the fall of Salerno trekking north past Rome towards the Alps that was the border between Italia and the German state of Switzerland, hoping in vain that the border would be unsealed.

You've heard the stories about Turin. The army's rout, the fall of the city, the lack of significant survivors beyond the cowardly soldiers. Gone within a matter of hours.. and you are only a few days away from the river Po yourself. Your grip on the cup grows stronger and you drink the rest of it in one big gulp.

Something big was going to happen. You could taste it in the air. Or maybe it was the water?

A weak smile comes across your face.

-~-

Sign ups:

All manner of people from all walks of life have come to the Milan Refugee camp. Civilians, soldiers, merchants, nobles. Even the Doge himself resides in one of the more lavish tents.

The one thing uniting you all is your Italian nationality and.. fear.

[b]Name[/b]:
[b]Gender[/b]:
[b]Age[/b]:
[b]Appearance[/b]:
[b]Profession[/b]: In this era most members of society were good at their trade, having trained in it extensively from a young age. This singular focus will be common amongst the lower classes and tapers off the more affluent or rich you wish to be.
[b]Skills[/b]: What skills do you bring to the table?
[b]Biography OR Snippet[/b]: A brief summation of either your life history or a snippet of your character in action.
[b]Extra[/b]: If I have not covered something you wish to add, feel free to do so.[/color]

[Anti]

Name: Peregrinus
Gender: Male
Age: ?
Appearance:

Pausing a moment from his preparations for the days journey, Peregrin peers into a sheet of glass he had not noticed in the room the night before. Peering back is a dark haired man, about 6 feet tall, clad in a dark brown cloak. His face while not fair, was not unpleasent to look upon; the most distinguished of features being his deep set blue eyes under heavy brows. The whole of his features had a weathered look to them, betraying of his long journey.

"What's this?" Peregrin laughed at himself. " Has Echo's' Curse come over me?"

Shaking his head Peregrinus scolded himself, having more important things to do then fawn overhimself in the mirror like some narcisstic noble. Within short order his preparations were complete, and he was on his way.

Profession: 'Scholar of Lost Arts'
Skills: Alchemy; basic engineer
Snippet:
[B] Salerno [/B]
Peregrinus paused, looking back toward the musket line. The entity was not long behind him, however it looked like the men of Italia had decided to take a stand at last. Observing the surrounding area his curiosity overtook him, he had to know how this would play out. He dismounted from his horse, and found himself a vantage point outside the city. Securing the horse, he left it to graze and pulled a letter out of one of the pouches under his cloak. Toying with it for a moment it occured to him that he did not have time to waste, but he quickly chased that thought off. He flicked the letter one more time, then carefully tucked it back into it's pouch and began pulling out a number of small tools, and vials full of various substances.

Hours would pass, but he did not notice, going over his supplies making sure nothing was broken. He took note when the fires started, but continued his work and only came out of his reverie when he heard the 'thunder' of musket fire. He like everyone else had heard the hushed whispers of a meance from the East, and even a bit more from his Order, however this was his first time to see it.

"What...kind of Magik spawned that?"

Peregrinus frowned. There might be ancient Orient Arts that could spawn a demon of that sort, but he did not know them. As the first line of Muskets retreated he quickly packed his supplies and checked his horse. If this was something ancient, he had little faith in man's vaunted technology. He watched closely at the second barrage of musket fire. Saw it's ineffectiveness. He didn't need to see more, he had no more time to spare for a sealed fate. His hand slid inside the letter's pouch which he patted, remembering his duty, and remounted the horse. He spurred it on as fast as he could away from the battle...

[B] Milan [/B]

Peregrinus sighed as he awaited his addmitance into the Doge's Court. Though he was here to serve the Doge himself, he had to do the court dance of going through a Count or Duke or somesuch noble. Proubably fancied himself a Natural Philosopher or Alchemist too. Peregrinus Sighed. The journey had been long too, but he had made it at last. Never far enough ahead of the front to rest, but far enough to be out of harms direct path. No thanks to his horse throwing a shoe as he fled from Salerno. NOW he had to do this dance without even a chance to rest. These nobles and there need to play games, even in the face of such danger! Cursing his luck once more, Peregrinus fished the letter from his order to The Doge out of it's pouch and began to fiddle with it between his fingers while he waited.

Extra: Peregrinus belongs to The Order of Lost Arts. Members of the Order pursue two goals. Natural Philosophy, and the preservation and restoration of the magiks that came before it. Members of The Order also serve as agents to those in power, providing the services of the 'Arts'.

[4815162342]

[COLOR=Sienna][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Alba (Dawn) Rachele (Ewe) Fabrizia (Craftsman) Casaro (From the job casearius, cheese-maker.)

[B]Gender:[/B] Female

[B]Age:[/B] 32

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v650/DeSotoDiceFreak/Alba.jpg]Alba[/URL] is about five foot three inches tall, and compact. Her hair is a dark walnut brown and reaches to just about her shoulders in very loose waves; she almost never wears it pulled back, mostly because it is not long enough yet. Her features are mild though her nose is on the large side, and her eyes are narrow and warm beneath gently curving eyebrows.

Normally she wears ankle length skirts with blouses above them in soft, muted colors, and while the fabric isn?t anything special it is always clean and well mended. Her only jewelry is her wedding ring which she now wears on a leather thong around her neck. Most days her hair is kept back from her face with a headscarf of some vibrant color ? her one vanity.

Alba walks slowly and gracefully, and her voice is clear and mellow. She smells of herbs and wax

[B]Profession:[/B] Alba is a cheese-maker, and has been since pretty soon after she first learned to walk. Her parents (also cheese-makers) taught her the process so she could take after them and learn a useful trade.

[B]Skills:[/B] Alba is a good listener, and adept at going unnoticed as she does not draw attention to herself ? sometimes this is of help, sometimes it is not so much. Her memory is quite good as well, as she has had much practice using it to memorize the different practices concerning how to correctly make cheese.

[B]Snippet:[/B] She blew a kiss to her love; her hand pressed against her pursed lips then tilted away from her mouth as she blew her kiss ? and the smell of herbs and wax ? after her husband as he waved from the crowd and continued down the dusty road.

He was going, like so many of the men, to fight in the?massacres. Yes, massacres. They said it was a war, but she did not believe. When the men would talk with the women that was what they would say ? [i]?It is a war, and it will end soon!? [/i]

Alba knew different. They just did not want to frighten their wives. They did not want to frighten their daughters?their mothers. When they were alone, though; alone in their huddles, alone with their large bodies filling the rooms and wine flowing freely?when they were by themselves with no women about?then they spoke the truth.

They were frightened. They did not know whether they would win, or whether they would lose. The men, the brave, brave men who could rescue sheep from the creatures who stalked them, and could assure their women that there was nothing to be afraid of?were [i]frightened.[/i]

And so, as Alba watched the backs of the man, her eyes fixed on her husband?s dear, familiar head, her hand still extended from blowing her kiss?she prayed. She prayed for their [i]lives.[/i]

[B]Extra:[/B] Alba is from the province of Bergamo in the Lombardy region of Italia. She is from the commune (Municipality) of Treviglio.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[DeathKnight]

[color=crimson]lol. 156 views and two sign ups. I don't bite.

~-~

[b]Name[/b]: Fedele Luzio

[b]Gender[/b]: Male

[b]Age[/b]: 29.

[b]Appearance[/b]: Fedele is a tall, sturdy man with a messed clump of black hair atop his head and the purest of blue eyes. He has a rough appearance having a naturally mean looking face and a protruding chin. His face is riddled with pockmarks and seems permanently stained with a dirt.

The uniform he once wore was long since abandoned the only item from it he still wears being his protective goggles. Wrapped in a brown cloak, his underlying clothes are tattered civilian affairs that are light and offer little protection from the elements. He still carries his musket on his shoulder and spare cartridges rest in a bag hanging from around his hip.

[b]Profession[/b]: Fedele was an Imperial Soldier stationed Sicily along the southern coast of the isle. A strong and competent fighter, he was pursuing his martial career admirably.

[b]Skills[/b]: Fedele is trained to use swords and muskets with ruthless efficency. Prior to the Scourge the concept of a routing unit of the Italian Empire was unthinkable and his courage was more concrete than most though it has been recovering since escaping Sicily. He is extremely adept at organization and execution of plans although not of actually leading.

[b]Snippet[/b]:

The March into the Sea

Palermo, Sicily

"Heave!"

With a great collective tug the last full net of cargo was lifted into the carrack's hold. Lightning flashed overhead as the storm pounded the port with wind and rain. The moored ships rocked heavily to and fro with each surge of the ocean. I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the rain and peered out into the sea at the ships that had launched already. It was such a pitiable group of ships. Warships floated right next to fishing vessels or small trading ships. There was no hint of the glory of the Italian Navy. It had been replaced by this odd collection of whatever we had within Palermo. Their lanterns glowed hazily through the blanket of rain like ghosts in the night. Their haunting glimmer should have been the hope of escape for all of us but to me those yellow specters sent a chill down my spine.

"Lazio! On deck!"

I ran up the ramp watching my footing so as not to slip down to a watery grave. As my foot left the ramp and hit the deck the soldiers around me quickly hauled it on board behind me. The chaos aboard the ship left me momentarily dazed as it seemed to border on panic. Soldiers and seamen were scurrying everywhere around me across the deck. Their desperate anxiety was infectious and I felt my heart start to beat faster just watching them. With a lurching motion the ship began to drift and I realized I should move to position. I cautiously jogged to a spot along the ship's railing and brought my musket to the ready.

"Musket men to defensive positions! All unnecessary personnel below deck! Brace for rough seas and stay alert!"

The smoldering city of Palermo was letting out it's last, weak gasps of breath. The great walls that had impressed many for centuries had no garrison. Our remaining troops stood at the entrances of the port keeping the masses of refugees out as the Empire of Italy's best troops fled out to sea. 'It is impossible' it was said 'to save them'. So here I stand, saving myself like the others. I cannot remember when it was that I stopped paying attention to every tenet of the Oath I swore to the Doge- to protect the civilians more than myself, to fight with courage, to defend every parcel of land with drops of my own blood. Being cut off from Calabria was the final knife to our morale as a group but I still had believed at the time.

"So when was it," I asked myself, "that I lost faith?"

I heard yelling and a stampede of civilians came from one of the port entrances. Swarming the sporadic guards they desperately mobbed towards the ships that were still loading cargo. I watched a musket man lower his gun and squeeze the trigger. A young man at the front of the crowd dropped causing several of the people behind him to trip over his body. Ignoring them, the crowds behind crushed them underfoot and sent one of them tumbling into the stormy sea. He was alive.. I could hear him scream.

Shots erupted from all across the dock. Dead bodies were either crushed under foot or shoved off into the sea. Some musket men then drew their swords. Others rushed onto their ships as the crews cast off and abandoned their remaining cargo. The ones who stood their ground bitterly fought and killed before inevitably being overrun. Their swords were stolen and the few unlucky ships remaining were stormed by the thousands of civilians still pouring into the port. More gunfire erupted as each ship desperately defended itself with little hope of survival.

As we got farther away from the panic and bloodshed I held my head within my free hand trying to clear my mind. Another set of screams came from the direction of Palermo accompanied by the sound of earth crashing. I looked and there in the center of Palermo dozens of black shadow legs had shot out from within the Earth and rested upon the town. Raising itself up the legs connected to a huge bulbous mass that writhed and dripped a black ooze wherever it stood. It seemed to be taller than a mountain and stood over the city ominously like a spider. The docks had fallen quit for a moment but a primal, animalistic surge of panic roared to life within them. Shoving, pushing, murdering in desperation.

Shooting out from the bulb came hundreds of arms at great speed. They struck with immense power into dozens of buildings. They recoiled back into the bulb almost instantly before shooting out again. The pace of the destruction was frantic and within half a minute of these the center of Palermo was simply piles of rubble. The spider lurched forward and slammed itself into the ground, it's black mass rolling across the rest of the town like an avalanche. It spilled down into the port and the piers, swallowing them whole.

The last image I saw of Palermo was of the darkness. It retreated backwards and left upon the docks were endless piles of bones. The ships were left as floating wreckage. The darkness rose up and reformed into it's former shape. Upon the bulb an eye opened and stared at us, the last ship to escape it's grasp. It stared and it watched and I believe it narrowed angrily but I could not be sure since we were so far away by then.

It watched us and I watched it until we could see each other no more.

I shut my eyes. I could feel still feel it's gaze.

I do not think that feeling will ever leave me.[/color]

[Ol' Fighter]

I'm surprised myself, this sound like it's going to be good...

Name: Marsellon Cotonuzince

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Apperance: Marsellon is 5''11, has a slim body tone, and weights 152 pounds. He has shoulder length black hair and wears all black 100% of the time. He wears glasses that are slighty shaped like semi-ovals.

Skills: Marsellon is a skilled tactician and for his age has a very wide range of experience. He has incredible insight during the heat of battle allowing him to accuratly predict the outcome of almost any situation.

Profesion: Marsellon is a tactician for hire and has been every since he was 14 years old and his prices aren't cheap.

Snippet: Italia and the French Theocracy

"Fine we'll pay you half now and half later...if this operation is a success", said a Frenchman in an all white uniform.
"Alright, you got yourself a tact", said Marsellon in a smug tone.
That gloomy night, Marsellon went hard at work thinking of many diffrent ways the Theocracy could invade Italia.
The next morning soldiers ran into Marsellon's home and demanded that he reveil his strategy to them.
"Here it is my good gentleman", he said with a smurk,
"Good, good", said the same man from yesterday, "We'll be following this plan of yours with 100% efficiancy and if anything goes wrong...it'll be your head".
After days of preperation, the French Theocracy invaded Italia using Marsellon's plan, they stealthly set up encampments inside the very nation at key cities being very careful of not revieling anything to give their positions away.
They next bribed and killed city officials and replaced them with their own and slowly turned the cities to Concentration Camps killing all who even heard a whisper of the French's plan.
After the cities were intact which took only one month, they slowly built up the old buildings turning them into fortresses and continued maintaining there secret until,
"You said this plan is flawless...did you not", the man in white yelled,
"Yes, but someone of your own ranks has decieved you all, isn't it obvious, who else could of know", yelled Marsellon hysterically.
"No, you failed to mention that you worked for them too didn't you Marsellon Cotonuzince",
"Heh, so you figured me out, but your a sec to late mister Theocracy...I actaully feell sorry for you", as Marsellon said this soliders rushed into the room quickly grabbing the man in white,
"NO YOU FOOLS, HE IS THETRAITOR, NOOOO, HE IS",
"Yeah whatever", said one solider.
As they walked out the room one solider gave Marsellon a suitcase that obviously contained money.
"Thank You for your assistance", said the solider and with that Marsellon snuck out off town.

Hope this is okay... :animeswea

[DeathKnight]

[color=crimson]Alright we'll start this with us four. I've had worse lol. Thank you for your interest and I look forward to a good rp.[/color]

[dd protector]

[COLOR=Indigo][B]Name[/B]: Corrado Bari

[B]Gender[/B]: male

[B]Age[/B]: 18

[B]Appearance[/B]: Corrado is 5?11 with dark brown hair, and dark olive skin to match. He has a very lanky build, and always tries to make up for it by jutting out his shoulders and raising his chest. Since he is a Marchese?s son, no one has yet, corrected him of this ridiculous looking posture. He has an arrogant walk and dresses in fine silks and cloths just because his parents can afford to. Of late, he has taken to wearing a dark blue cloak that brings out his dark, almost black, eye colour. His always-clean black boots are shin-height, and cover the hem of his plain brown pants.

If you scrutise his face closer it is apparent his nose had been broken before and his chin has a small scar on the left side.

Corrado always tries to slick back his mop of hair using whatever is available, and because of such frequently smells of Greece or oil.

[B]Profession:[/B] Corrado was born to replace his father in Ravenna as the Marchese (marchon) He was trained to lead his small garrison of men to defend his battlements at home. He was brought up to know how to use a sword and musket and to use proper battle tactics in any situation. His father was always the benefactor of any new weapons and as such, his home had been filled with prototypes and new types of weaponry often. Although using them in practice, and against the real thing are very different.

[B]Skills[/B]: Corrado has a healthy fear of magik although with a lifetime of training with basic weapons and battle tactics. He also has little real experience fighting and could be consider overconfident.

[B]Snippet[/B]: The trees flashed by as Corrado ran down the alley, away from the men. Spotting a convenient bush he changed direction and came to an abrupt halt. Lowering his pants he took a quick piss and then moved back towards his men at a jog.

General Giuseppe, the commander of his small garrison of men gave him a wave, causally, with one hand. Corrado walked around the group of men, moving bramble as he walked.

?Looks like Palermo is under massive attacks, the men there are moving out of the city as quickly as possible.?

?And from where are we receiving this information??

?Our scouts sent us word. We received this just a few minutes ago, while you were going on your run? He gestured ahead and grinned. ?I don?t understand why you can?t just take a leak on the side of the road. We are after all your men.?

?[I]No you?re my father?s men[/I].? Corrado thought to himself. ?Everyone has there own things to deal with.? Looking ahead he scanned the tree line and wondered where his scouts were. ?Okay, so where does the battle move to now??

?Well there are a bunch of other fortified cites that could benefit from a few more men.? Lower his voice he added ?But we are honestly only a few men and couldn?t be of much use.?

Corrado knew the only real thing they had to offer were muskets and there single Vulcan cannon which they lugged behind the group. His father Albeno had held back his men in defense of the city of Ravenna, where they were garrisoned. As things got worse and worse Albeno knew he had to send aid somehow, and decided to send his first son with his garrison of men towards the battle. He himself sent his wife away into the countryside with the hope of keeping her away from the coast and hopefully the battle. Albeno kept a small men in defense of his city, but knew more would come when the fighting started.

Corrado had just started moving the men today and was headed down the coast towards the action. He knew General Giuseppe knew the strategic points much better then he did and he hoped to learn them on the way. As he looked up through the trees and saw the clear sky he wondered if war was really like all of his fathers exercises. If it was he would surely triumph, after all he?d always won before.[/COLOR]
Its been awhile, so I hope this is okay.