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Post by marphlets on Jan 20, 2008 15:35:16 GMT -5
Volume one of The New Librian Chronicles. Disclaimer: I didn't create and I don't own EQ or its characters (duh!), but I did create a few OCs and new settings. Please get my permission before reusing them or reproducing them in any way. Authors Note: I wrote this with the non-EQ fan in mind, so you'll find quite a bit of fun explanation. (Just so you know I'm not insulting anyone's intelligence ) Feel free to leave comments! Without futher yacking: Janus Rising, Chapter 1
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Post by marphlets on Jan 20, 2008 15:38:28 GMT -5
Janus Rising
They were all dead. Every visible symbol of the Tetragrammaton had fallen - mostly at his hand - in a battle that would have been completely silent if not for the gunfire and clash of swords. He stood alone overlooking a newly freed kingdom - one man dressed in bloodstained white.
The slightest hint of a smile graced Senior Cleric John Preston’s careworn features even though freedom wasn’t turning out the way he thought it would. The citizens of the once peaceful martial state of Libria had taken to the streets with weapons, and were attempting to overturn every last remnant of the Equilibrium government. The Equilibrium themselves, distribution centers for the anti-emotion drug Prozium, had all been blown to oblivion the moment he shut down Father’s broadcasts.
DuPont’s broadcasts, he reminded himself. DuPont had taken Father’s place and visible form in the broadcasts two years earlier when the former head of Librian government had died. The self-centered head councilman had received the blessing of Cleric Preston’s bullet not half an hour before. The councilman made out better in Preston’s silent rampage than John’s former partner and fellow cleric, Brandt, who had lost his life when Preston efficiently disarmed him and sliced the man’s face off in less than thirty seconds.
It had not been easy, but once he took that first step against his own side in this conflict, everything else flowed like a river out of a newly broken dam. He had entered the Grammaton council hall that night to simply kill Father, but DuPont was waiting for him with an emotion detector, several dozen sweepers with Beretta assault rifles, and one misconception.
“..Along with (the resistance) you’ve given me yourself,” Dupont had taunted Preston. “Calmly. Coolly. Entirely without incident.” Once he failed the E-test, the game seemed to be over. DuPont had not counted on the leader of the Underground, having so great an effect on his pawn. Preston recalled once more the dictum Jurgen had given him.
“...Some of us have to forgo that luxury so that the rest can have it. Some very few of us have to force ourselves not to feel.” That memory was all it had taken for the Senior Cleric to bring the detector readout back down to zero, causing the technician to utter an expletive long outlawed by the Grammaton Council.
“No. Not without incident,” he had replied right before his twin Berettas flew from his snow white sleeves and took their first victims of the night.
The sound of pensive footsteps interrupted his reverie. Whoever it was hesitated right outside the office Preston was occupying and began to pace nervously. He was obviously not a threat - these were not the actions of a man with a weapon.
“It’s all right. You can come in.” The skittish little man who had administered the emotion-detector test that changed the world cautiously peered around the corner. Preston beckoned him in with the wave of his pistol. “It’s all right. I won’t shoot you.” It seemed a strange thing to be saying from the other side of a pile of bodies he had cut down, but the little man apparently believed him and moved into the room.
“What’s your name?” Preston attempted to make the man more comfortable.
“S-Steven.” It came out sounding more like a question than an answer.
“Steven. How did you come to work for DuPont, Steven?”
“I knew his mother.”
Preston gave a roll of his head to that. He hadn’t settled the fact that, in a society where experiencing emotion had been outlawed, the elite had their own way of life that did not include taking increments of the sedative Prozium. They only required everyone else to take it in order to maintain their iron grip on the duped masses. Obviously this man had reaped the benefits of knowing one of those elites. John could smell the emotion on him.
Steven bit his lip to control his fear of the man in white. He saw the cleric regard his mannerisms with what looked like a cross between pity and scorn, and drew some courage out of his anger at having been seen as pitiable. “With all due respect, Cleric, do you have a way out of here?”
That question satisfied Steven by getting a bewildered look out of Preston. He dared a step in his direction. “There are still many clerics and police faithful to Dupont and the Council alive in this building, and unless you’ve brought at least one other master as skilled as yourself, I doubt you can make it out alive.”
John looked out once again at the beautiful chaos in the streets. “It doesn’t matter. I did the job I came to do.”
A small impish grin spread across Steven’s face. “Yes sir, but what if you could get out alive?”
The cleric wasn’t expecting that. “What did you have in mind?”
Steven’s grin widened, impossibly, showing his teeth, as he pulled a small phone out of his sleeve. “You’re not the only one who keeps surprises up their sleeves.” He pressed a button on the side of the phone and spoke quickly into the receiver. “Are you still there? Yes, I’m all right. Do you have time for a side trip? Good. Can you get to the broadcast room? Don’t worry about that. We’ll meet you there.”
“Who was that?”
“A friend. They can help us out, but we have to meet them in the testing room. Can you get us there?”
John was tempted to refuse the offer. He didn’t really know who “they” were or who Steven might be working for, but thoughts of Robbie and Lisa waiting for him to come home changed his mind. He nodded, checked the magazines in both of his pistols with two succinct clicks, and led the way out of DuPont’s office with Steven scampering to keep up behind.
They made it to the hall outside the testing room without incident, stopping at every corner to listen for sweepers and hoping there wasn’t a group of clerics waiting in silence on the other sides of the walls. Steven stepped out from behind his companion as if he was going to lead the way in himself. Preston put a restraining hand on the man’s chest and placed the gun in his left hand over his lips to signal silence.
“What are we doing?’ Steven whispered.
“Thirty seconds.”
“What happens in thirty seconds?”
Preston indicated the door on the opposite end of the room. “Any possible shooters will come around that corner.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s what I would...”
He heard the intruder before she ever rounded the corner. He turned his head slightly to his left and placed a ready thumb on the fire settings of his pistol. The telltale sound of dual pistols being taken off safeties let him know precisely when she would make her move. A young woman rolled around the corner in perfect gun kata position, only to find his pistol pointed right at her head.
“OK ” She nearly shouted in her hurry to surrender and throw her arms up in the timeless sign for the same. “Ok, ” she said again and dangled her guns on each of her thumbs by the trigger guards. His pistol and gaze followed her all the way to the floor, where her guns fell from her thumbs in an uncoordinated “clunk.” The former cleric kicked them both aside and moved to the far end of the room next to the gaping hole he had shot in the wall, giving himself a view of the outer hall. The girl was alone.
“Name,” he demanded.
“Don’t shoot ” Steven had finally found the courage to look around the corner. He ran to the young woman’s side and helped her up. “Senior Cleric John Preston, this is Junior Cleric First Class Shandy,” he said, giving her official Grammaton rank.
“What is your full name, JC1?”
She looked at him wonderingly for a moment then stuck out her chin defiantly. “Claire Edana Shandy.”
A middle name? And a name rated very EC-10 for emotional content, he realized. He lowered his pistol a few inches.
Steven brushed some rubble of his friend’s shoulder. “Where are Markus and Ben?”
“We ran into a contingent of Sweepers on the west end.” She dropped her eyes.
“Did they...I mean are they...?”
“They took more than two dozen with them.”
While the two strangers conversed, Preston took a moment to examine the woman more closely. The first thing he noticed was that she was very young to have made the rank of Junior Cleric - probably early twenties. She wore the uniform of a Cleric, but slightly modified. The usually high oriental collar that should have mirrored his, was unbuttoned and left flaring out on both sides of her neck, and laying three inches from the base of her neck was a single gold ornament made of delicate filagree. He looked closer and thought he recognized a familiar symbol.
“Your...” He found he actually had to search for the word. “...jewelry. What does it stand for?”
She fingered the small cross hanging around her neck.
“Faith.”
“In the Tetragrammaton?” he asked, raising his pistol back to her eye level. If this young cleric intended to reactivate the broadcasts somehow, he would have to kill her, too.
JC1 Shandy made a face that looked to Preston like something a thousand times deeper than fury.
“They were only playing God,” she said in a strained, but firm voice.
That reassured him to a point, even though he wasn’t sure what it meant. The young woman moved a cautious step closer to the supposed savior of the resistance, Steven having been forgotten in the scenery.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Do?” It was not the question he would have expected, but it felt familiar somehow.
“Father is dead. The Prozium is gone,” she said, as if she was checking off a list.
Preston only looked at her questioningly.
“There will be many emotional people desperate for someone to lead them, after the dust settles.” She gave him a purposeful nod.
“Not me.” Actually the cleric had never thought about what would happen after he killed Father. He walked over to her pistols and kicked them back in her direction. Shandy clasped her hands behind her back. “With all due respect, Cleric, you’re practically the only one left standing.”
John peered down into the streets of Libria through the testing room’s shot-out view screen. One group of resistance fighters was holding a half-dead cleric over their heads in triumph, while one street over, an emergency team was trying desperately to put out the towering inferno that was the last of the Equilibrium.
“What about Jurgen?” he asked, hoping to pawn the responsibility off on the leader of the Underground. Why he felt this barely grown female would have the answers, he did not know.
She raised an eyebrow to his question and dipped her chin. “What about him?”
It took a moment, but her meaning finally dawned. John Preston stepped down off his ledge, guns in hand, and set off to find a friend. As he turned, he caught a hint of a smile on Shandy’s face as she retrieved her pistols where he had kicked them, and followed.
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Post by reveria on Jan 20, 2008 16:10:47 GMT -5
oh, I like it! this is a great start. I love your writing style, and your descriptions are wonderful. Steven knowing DuPont's mother actually made me laugh for some reason. I'm curious where this is going. just promise me you won't turn Shandy into a Mary Sue
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Post by Libby on Jan 20, 2008 16:18:20 GMT -5
Nice...
I think you've caught the 'what the hell do we do now?' atmosphere really well here. At this point no-one has a clue where Libria's going...or who's going to lead her there.
It's funny how we both have the 'skittish little man' as characters...yours is Steven whilst mine was Ted (who eventually became my OC's assistant after giving her Preston's katana) and that 'our' Preston didn't think he would have to lead anyone ('mine' said 'I'm just a policeman')
I'm looking forward to reading more and seeing how your OC develops.
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Post by clericjay on Jan 20, 2008 16:52:24 GMT -5
This is a very interesting start. I like it and I'm waiting for more. And I'm also very interested how your solution will look like. I also have some very good ideas for an EQ Sequel, but I will write this one later, after "Memories of Father" will be finished. So next year, maybe, probably later...
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Prestan
Vice Council in Charge of Flames and Summary Combustions
Not Without Innocence
Posts: 128
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Post by Prestan on Jan 21, 2008 1:10:07 GMT -5
I absolutley loved the line "You’re not the only one who keeps surprises up their sleeves." that was great. Steven huh? alright, I'm anxious to see where this goes.
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Post by marphlets on Jan 21, 2008 5:35:50 GMT -5
Thanks everyone! I appreciate the input! Thanks to my beta, maryilee on fanlib.com. She's the one who really pushed my descriptions up a notch and kept my grammar in line. lol! Mary Sue I think not! Seriously, I am constantly running the Mary Sue litmus test on all my characters to ensure their grip on reality. Claire Edana Shandy is a living, breathing gal, at least to me. You'll see I don't do her the injustice of forcing myself onto her personality
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Post by marphlets on Jan 21, 2008 5:46:20 GMT -5
P.S. I didn't know the skittish little man character was so popular. I use mine to create a nice surprise toward the end of this volume. He was someone I added in as an afterthought but ended up having the most fun with.
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Post by Witcher Wolf on Jan 21, 2008 6:05:02 GMT -5
Interesting so far
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Post by Aedh on Jan 21, 2008 8:22:36 GMT -5
Well done so far Cleric. I like it that it picks up exactly where the movie leaves off.
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Post by marphlets on Jan 21, 2008 18:29:21 GMT -5
Thanks Witcher! Thanks Aedh! New chapter coming on Friday
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Post by Witcher Wolf on Jan 21, 2008 19:11:23 GMT -5
You can call me Wolf - Witcher is just mah job *grin* Just kidding there :>
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Post by marphlets on Jan 22, 2008 2:07:18 GMT -5
Wolf it is.
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Post by Witcher Wolf on Jan 22, 2008 5:53:36 GMT -5
I actually started out as Cleric Wolf, but then moved on to Witcher Wolf because I decided that's where the orens were
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Post by marphlets on Jan 25, 2008 16:08:28 GMT -5
New Librian Chronicles, Volume One Janus Rising, Chapter 2
Outside the Tetragrammaton, the streets rang with the sounds of victory, fear, and general mayhem. Preston watched the young woman leading him through a labyrinth of byways to the Hall of Execution. Twice she had started down one road only to shove him violently into a side alley, narrowly avoiding a group of cleric or resistance fighters, or both. She seemed as concerned as he was about being seen by members of the resistance. The Junior Cleric apparently had pondered the same thoughts as he, that even though the leaders of the Underground knew what his true allegiance was, the thousands of “underlings” would probably show no mercy to two gun-toting strangers in clerics’ uniforms.
Shandy paused at the end of one long back-alley and listened for passers-by. After looking around the corners to ensure her ears were correct, she turned right and headed at a sprint for what Preston realized was a maintenance entrance to the incinerator. She stopped at the small hatch, broke the lock with two swift blows from the butt of her pistol and waved him in. John tucked his guns under his overcoat and crawled into the soot-covered duct head-first. He watched with curiosity as Shandy picked a piece of crumbled limestone off the ground and hastily drew a small upside-down “T” on the door, then gripped the upper lip of the hatch and swung into the dark passageway feet first, the hatch closing behind her. He was about to ask her what the mark was for when the sound of several pairs of boots came pounding around the corner. The men, resistance fighters by the unkempt look of their boots, stopped at the door for a moment before one of them said “No, leave it alone. Let’s go back down the south side.”
Preston realized what was going on. The mark was meant to note any thing out of the ordinary to resistance fighters. So, for instance, if the usual meeting door was left ajar or anything left out of its ordinary place, that mark would tell other members of the resistance that it had been done by the Underground and not by sweepers or clerics. By the same token, if the mark was not there, that person would know to make a hasty retreat.
They turned around and headed down the long, winding shaft. Preston was surprised to find that it wasn’t hot. “They must have doused the furnace,” he whispered, hoping that was a good sign. Perhaps the guards had ceased the executions when the fighting had started. After a few more meters, they could make out a light at the end of the shaft. Shandy began to slow her crawl and shuffle her knees in order to dampen the sound of her boots tapping against the metal floor. At the shaft exit, Shandy observed the actions in the incinerator room through the grate, then moved back to give Preston his turn.
He could see several soft-booted feet moving nervously near the grate. Good. At least some of the resistance leaders were still alive. He was even more relieved than Shandy looked as he had been the one who had sent them to the Hall of Destruction. Granted that risk was part of their plan, but he found that knowledge ill-suited to alleviate his guilt.
Beyond the resistance members, he could make out the figures of about a dozen sweepers and a couple Clerics. He could hear the gunfire of four more sweepers in the outer hallway accompanied by the higher tones of the AK47 rifles used by the resistance. Well, at least he had some back up, sort of.
An idea suddenly hit him and he looked to Shandy for confirmation. He was a bit startled to find she was already looking at him intensely, until he realized she was just reading his intentions and waiting for instruction. Apparently, she had yet to master battle tactics. He just hoped her gun kata skills were as excellent as they seemed to be in the testing room.
Shandy watched John until he had figured out the situation. He seemed to finally decide on how to handle it and turned to her to give instruction. He reached up to his collar and straightened it, pointing at hers. She looked down at her uniform for a moment, then understood. He wanted her to straighten her uniform and cover her cross. They were going in as clerics, not resistance members.
She began perfecting her appearance as much as she could, while secretly hoping that Preston was as good at hiding his emotion as she had learned to be. She hadn’t taken the dose since she was fifteen, but, as far as she knew, he had only been off Prozium for a few days.
John was waiting on her to finish. She looked up at him and nodded, noting that his once snow white uniform was now mottled grey with soot. She sent up a prayer that their appearance would be easily explained in the chaos, then moved behind him, firmly placed her feet against the sides of the duct and pressed her back against his. She thought it was odd that he didn’t even have to tell her what he needed. She could automatically read his unspoken intentions, and knew that he would want to kick the grate open and that he would need back support to do it.
He began to rock against her back, giving her the count. That’s one, two, three...
Preston burst through the opening and into the incineration room in one smooth motion. All eyes and fifteen guns swung in his direction as Shandy held her breath.
“Hold your fire, “ Preston ordered in an even tone. “I’m Senior Cleric John Preston,” he said and held his black ID badge beside his face, letting it fold open to display his identification papers.
One of the clerics crossed the room with two sweepers and checked his papers. He waved for the others to put down their guns. “I apologize, Sir. I didn’t recognize you. I’m Cleric Brent Parker.” “It’s understandable, Parker. What’s your situation?”
“I know you’re in there. Come out with your hands in the air ” One of the sweepers had found Shandy.
“It’s all right, Sweeper. She’s with me.”John reached down and helped her out of the duct. “This is Junior Cleric Claire Shandy. Shandy, this is Cleric Brent Parker.”
“Yes, Sir. We’ve met,” she replied and gave Parker a nod.
“It’s good to see you alive, Junior Cleric. Vice Council was right to commend your skills.” Shandy noticed the lack of meaning behind the first sentence. A feeling person would have said I’m glad to see you or even Thank God. You’re alive. She simply replied “Thank you, Sir,” mirroring his lack of feeling.
Parker continued his report. “These, as you know, were scheduled for combustion.” He waved in the prisoners direction, and Preston took the opportunity to survey their faces, nearly losing his composure when he spotted Jurgen hovering toward the back with his forefingers laying over his pursed lips. The leader of the resistance was ready for whatever Preston had in mind.
“I was forced to postpone their incineration due to the attack. I even tried offering the resistance fighters their comrades lives if they would cease their attack, but they refused and continued to fight. They appear to have no real motivation. What are they fighting for?”
Shandy thought Preston was going to lose it. She understood the flash of his eyes that only lasted a microsecond before he had himself back under control. Brent Parker was going to die.
Preston only clasped his hands behind his back and clenched them slightly harder than a relaxed cleric should. “Have you searched the prisoners since the attacks began?”
“No, Sir,” Parker responded as he moved back to the door to fire off a few more shots. “We haven’t had the chance.”
John nodded at Shandy and she nodded back, confirming she also understood his hidden meaning. While three Sweepers lined the prisoners up against the wall, she holstered her pistols inside her overcoat and used the motion to disguise a reach into her left inside pocket. When she got to the first resistance member to search him, she was holding a 38-caliber pistol in the palm of her hand, which he gladly and discreetly accepted. She continued down the line searching and arming every resistance fighter in the room, some with knives and some with small caliber pistols. It was the best she could do on short notice and with only four actual pockets.
Meanwhile, Preston had pulled Parker over to a desk in the far corner. He reached into the bottom right-hand drawer for the city map all dosing Librians kept in their bottom right-hand drawer. He preferred his in the middle left.
“We need to formulate a viable strategy for getting to the council members. There’s been no contact with them and they may already be overrun.” It was weak, but he was hoping to keep the two clerics occupied, as they were likely to kill the resistance fighters outside more efficiently than the Sweepers.
Parker seemed to be thinking about the suggestion for a moment. “Yes, Sir, but wouldn’t the council chambers be the first place the resistance would attack.”
“Perhaps. All the more reason for us to get there as soon as possible with a contingent of sweepers.”
“How would we avoid the people in the streets?” The second cleric finally spoke.
Preston eyed the prisoners and at the same time checked on Shandy’s progress. She seemed to have gotten to everyone but Jurgen, who was waiting quietly with his hands placed shoulder width apart on the incinerator wall. Now was as good an opportunity as they were going to get. Preston walked in Jurgen’s direction
“Perhaps they could tell us,” he said.
Parker took a step toward him. “It’s doubtful, Sir. I’ve already interrogated them and nothing was forthcoming.”
It was almost time. Preston whirled around to face Parker in order to cover up the movement of Shandy slipping a wicked-looking eight-inch blade into Jurgen’s right sleeve. She indicated the sweeper standing guard to Jurgen’s left with a slight movement of her eyes, then continued her pretend search down his left leg.
“Really?” He ventured a dangerous comment while moving his hands to his sides, ready to draw his guns. “Then perhaps you’re just entirely without talent.”
As the two clerics stared in confusion, a wicked little smile began to spread across his face. He could hear the stifled laughter behind him, and knew he didn’t have to tell the rest it was time. For the second time in a week he had the pleasure of watching his true nature dawn on an enforcer of the Grammaton government.
“He’s a sense offender!” Parker didn’t even have time to finish his revelation before a bullet from Preston’s Beretta caught him between the eyes. John took out the two clerics before either one had drawn their guns. As he moved into the second gun kata position, he was pleased to see Jurgen take out his sweeper, and Shandy crouch into another kata position to take out the two at the right side of the incinerator. He didn’t even have a second to revel in those small victories, as the guards at the door were bringing their rifles to bear. Several had already been taken out by the resistance members before John added his guns to the cacophony. In less than a minute the gunfire died off as the last of the sweepers fell, their coal black coats and shiny black helmets covered the floor, resembling a lake of black blood.
Jurgen rushed forward and placed a hand of gratitude and reassurance on John’s shoulder before calling an “all clear” to the fighters outside. A frazzled group of seven resistance members staggered through the door, a few only walking with the support of others. Just like that, John found he had a new family to care for. One pair, a man and woman, stopped at Preston’s side.
“Can you give me a hand sir?” The dark-haired man was practically carrying the injured woman. “I think she was shot in the chest.”
John grabbed the woman’s legs and together they placed her on the desk. It made a poor bed - her legs hung off the end at her knees. The man was already ripping the woman’s coat off and taking the gun and holster off her shoulders.
“What’s her name?”
“Suzanne.”
“Suzanne. Suzanne, can you hear me?” All Preston got was a low groan. “She needs a hospital. Soon.”
Jurgen overheard the comment and walked over to observe the situation. “Claire,” he called Shandy over. “Help Ralph get Suzanne into one of those clerics’ uniforms, and make sure they get to the nearest medical center safely. That’ll be Westgate, alright?” She nodded and began to strip Parker of his clothes.
“What are the rest of us going to do?”
Jurgen offered Preston a sly smile. “We’re going to follow your plan.”
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Post by reveria on Jan 25, 2008 20:33:45 GMT -5
oooh yay, you saved Jurgen and the others! *lets out a sigh of relief* at first I thought they were dead, because of Steven's comment.
now, I already want more, but I'll be patient...
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Post by Aedh on Jan 26, 2008 9:02:34 GMT -5
Interesting. Cleric Parker was indeed incompetent, as Preston noted. You're off to a good strong start ... now let us hope that that some competent Clerics can be found to put down this vile plot and restore order to the City before it's too late. Not before we have some scenes with creative Gun Kata action, of course.
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Post by clericjay on Jan 26, 2008 15:55:54 GMT -5
Good work! ;D I like your story very much and I'm looking forward for the on-going of the "Revolution".
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Post by marphlets on Jan 28, 2008 19:51:40 GMT -5
Interesting. Cleric Parker was indeed incompetent, as Preston noted. You're off to a good strong start ... now let us hope that that some competent Clerics can be found to put down this vile plot and restore order to the City before it's too late. Not before we have some scenes with creative Gun Kata action, of course. So I take it you're routing for the Tetragrammaton? ...And there will definitely be much more action ;D
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Post by marphlets on Jan 28, 2008 19:52:51 GMT -5
Good work! ;D I like your story very much and I'm looking forward for the on-going of the "Revolution". Thank you! I will post chapter three on Friday.
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Post by Aedh on Jan 29, 2008 12:14:31 GMT -5
So I take it you're routing for the Tetragrammaton? But naturally. It's the attitude of any really caring and concerned person. Everyone knows that emotionality is just bad news ... what good does it bring a person except--at best--a few moments of fleeting mental euphoria? And at worst, it brings a lifetime of hatred and depression. Father's Way is best, and sense-offence must always be put down; gently and by education if possible, but in the case of hardened offenders devoted to spreading poison through society, by any means necessary. The welfare of our fellow citizens and our community cannot be trumped by the blind fanaticism of those who insist on putting their own feelings above the common good. It's not for nothing I'm 'Evil Genius In Residence' you know.
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Post by marphlets on Jan 29, 2008 21:02:15 GMT -5
So I take it you're routing for the Tetragrammaton? But naturally. It's the attitude of any really caring and concerned person. Everyone knows that emotionality is just bad news ... what good does it bring a person except--at best--a few moments of fleeting mental euphoria? And at worst, it brings a lifetime of hatred and depression. Father's Way is best, and sense-offence must always be put down; gently and by education if possible, but in the case of hardened offenders devoted to spreading poison through society, by any means necessary. The welfare of our fellow citizens and our community cannot be trumped by the blind fanaticism of those who insist on putting their own feelings above the common good. It's not for nothing I'm 'Evil Genius In Residence' you know. We shall see, Evil Genius, we shall see.
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Post by marphlets on Feb 1, 2008 21:47:12 GMT -5
The New Librian Chronicles, Volume One Janus Rising, Chapter Three
Less than fifteen minutes later Jurgen and Preston were leading a small resistance force through the streets of Libria under cover of mid-afternoon. John was growing weary with the disarray in which the untrained soldiers carried themselves. This was supposed to be a covert infiltration. Apparently the men and women of the Underground only used stealth when hiding caches of banned art in the Nethers.
He watched as Jurgen did his best to direct the group through the mayhem with the least amount of noise. They were all afraid, and fear made most people sloppy. The Resistance didn’t have a monastery to train their children to fight. The only knowledge any of them would have, would be from combat experience, and as a network that survived on its ability to hide, they didn’t have much of that.
For the fourth time since they left the Hall of Destruction, the group walked around a corner into a contingent of sweepers. They handled the shock with a little more finesse this time, only allowing one fighter to be shot before taking cover and returning fire. John, back against the wall nodded at Jurgen, a signal the fighters now recognized was a sign they should lay down cover fire while he picked off sweepers using gun kata. He turned sharply to his left and fired, moving his arms through the kata, a series of motions he now felt more than he thought. He rolled back behind the nearest wall. Six down. He looked at Jurgen. The man held up four fingers and John nodded at him. He turned back around the corner and fired off four quick shots, leaving nothing in the street but smoldering bodies.
“The West entrance to the Hall of Justice is twenty meters ahead and to the right.” He gestured up the alley with a nod.
“Frank, Stark, scout ahead. Cam, circle this building and check for more Sweepers. You think we should wait until dark?” Jurgen addressed the last sentence to Preston.
“Early evening. They’ll be barricaded in chambers with an honor guard and several civilians.”
“How do you know?” A mountain of a man named Brennan piped up from the back of the group.
Jurgen pondered Preston for a moment, recognizing the look he flashed Brennan. “It’s what he would do.”
===
Shandy and Ralph hauled Suzanne as gently as they could onto the stretcher they had just stolen from couple of emergency medical responders. Half an hour after they left the incinerator room, a shockwave thundered through the street on which they were dragging their patient. There was no need to radio the other fighters, she knew the sound of Grammaton grade explosives when she heard them. She hoped the explosion boded well for her people, but she had no time to go back and find out. Suzanne was still bleeding despite the bandages she and Ralph had applied, and she would probably bleed out within the hour if they didn’t get her to a hospital.
She’d had the presence of mind to put Ralph in acceptable civilian clothes. A Junior Cleric bringing her teacher in for medical care was one thing, but even a nurse would know that it didn’t take two clerics to bring in a friend, especially not when there were the more important jobs of enforcement and protection to be done.
Shandy forced herself not to breathe a sigh of relief when the medical technichians met them at the door and rushed Suzanne to an operating room. The hospital was crowded, but still functioning efficiently. Claire was just beginning to wonder why that was when she felt the hot muzzle of an AK-47 at her neck.
“Move,” the unseen assailant ordered as the muzzle pushed her forward and to her left. She obediently walked into a small office and waited for further instruction.
“You too.” Ralph followed suit and stood beside Shandy with his hands in the air. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head slightly. Not time to be heroes.
“Well I recognize my fellow Free Librian, but who’s this puppet of the TetraGrammaton?” A figure stepped out of the shadows in the unlit office. The portly gentleman was wearing a frayed black sweater with a Sweeper’s black leather overcoat that swept the floor. Instead of the standard resistance issue AK-47, he had a Grammaton issue Berretta assault rifle strapped to his shoulder.
Ralph dropped his arms. “Grady! You big bastard, she’s one of us. She’s Jurgen’s eyes in the monastery.”
Grady seemed to consider that possibility for a moment, then gave the young woman a wide grin and offered her a hand. “Always good to meet one of Jurgen’s special spies.”
She shook the hand and looked to Ralph.
“Oh,” he said, “Grady’s in charge of the Nethers. All of the artifact storage, transport, and protection goes to him.”
Shandy smiled at the man. “Nice to meet you, Grady. You can call me Shandy. You mind telling me what a resistance leader is doing holed up in a TG hospital?”
Grady plopped down into the previous occupant’s desk chair and shifted his rifle over his rotund belly. “We took over Westgate pretty much the moment the Equilibrium blew. Gotta make sure our fighters get the care they need.”
Shandy nodded in agreement, though she suspected that with Grady that meant anyone still taking the dose would be left on the streets to die.
“Look, Grady. Suzanne’s been shot. I’d appreciate...” Ralph didn’t even get to finish his sentence.
“Cary can take you up to her. Cary!” A lanky teenager promptly marched into the office. “Take Ralph to his wife. She should be on the fourth flour in the emergency surgery ward, ok? And don’t let anyone stop him, he’s a good soldier - he and his family deserve the best care.”
Now Shandy was wondering who the fat man was trying to impress. She started to follow Cary out the door when Grady stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going, Junior Cleric?”
She pointed in the exiting men’s direction, but he shook his head. “I need information about what’s going on out there. We have to prepare this building for attack.”
“Attack?”
Grady snorted and lifted his eyebrows in a gesture of shock. “You don’t think the Grammaton’s gonna let us keep one of their official buildings for long, do you?”
Shandy’s first reaction was to say “Yes,” but she thought better of it. Obviously this man wasn’t aware that the law enforcement in Libria had more important things to do at the moment. “I see your point,” she said. But I’m certainly not telling you anything important, she added in her head.
===
Preston made it to the front steps of the Hall of Justice with out losing any more people. In the silence of heavy breathing and clomping boots he observed the front doors. It was strange to see them so unguarded. Apparently the burning Prozium factories were taking up the majority of the TetraGrammaton’s personnel at the moment. Hopefully they could finish what they had come to do before those personnel returned.
“Scouts report clear on all sides.” Jurgen was speaking softly, adding to the apprehension that John felt. He couldn’t put a face on it, but something was wrong. He squinted in the afternoon light. Nothing looked out of place on the large double doors or the wide staircase, although that could mean the danger was hidden, as all well laid traps are. Well laid traps...
He leaned against a stone wall next to Jurgen and whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Jurgen looked a little afraid. “Yes. Why?”
“The TetraGrammaton doesn’t just open it’s doors.”
Jurgen called a short stocky man with sandy blonde hair over and spoke into his ear. The man nodded and ran toward the south side of the building. A few moments later Preston saw him slowly working his way along the front wall examining each section carefully. When he got to the stairs he climbed over the side and inched his way toward the doors. John watched closely from the shelter of an abandoned doorway as the man reached gingerly for the handle and grasped it gently. Everyone was just breathing a sigh of relief when both doors blew violently out ward, instantly turning the blonde man into vapor and debris.
John instinctively shielded his eyes from the explosion and grasped a piece of wall for support. When he dared look up again, he saw a gaping, charred hole that used to be the entrance. He had never seen a man blown to bits while not under the effects of Prozium, and he found it didn’t matter. He stood there numb and frozen, hypnotized by the smoldering stone.
“Preston. John.” Jurgen was at his side. “Cleric.” John looked at him then. “We have a way in now and we shouldn’t waste it.”
“Waste?”
“Fletcher would not want us to give up now.”
Fletcher? He’s dead! And he probably doesn’t even know it yet! The shorter, yet powerful man seemed to be reading his mind. “What do you think the Counsel will do if we leave them alone to carry out their contingency plans?”
Preston knew the answer to that question like he knew how to handle a gun. “They’ll hunt every last resistor down. Mass executions. Death in the streets. They won’t stop until they’ve eradicated everyone.” He regarded the leader of the Underground for a moment, as Jurgen returned the knowing look in his eyes. At that moment, he was sure that they were both committed to finishing the job Preston had started by killing Dupont. The TetraGrammaton would fall tonight - whatever the cost.
===
Shandy was beginning to wonder what it was going to take to get Tim Grady to shut-up. He’d asked her any number of times about the “lay of the land” and every time she gave him the same basic answer - “bad.” She nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief when Ralph returned from checking on his wife.
“She going to be alright,” he reported, looking relieved. “She’ll be in here for a couple of days, but she’ll recover.”
“Good!” Grady responded before Shandy could express her heartfelt joy. She had stayed with Ralph and Suzanne Kremholtz for awhile when she was young. They were good people.
“We’ll make sure she stays that way.” Grady was pumping the man’s hand and reassuring him as if he was the attending physician. Shandy wanted to punch the oil right out of him. She settled on saving Ralph from his clutches.
“We should get going.” She widened her eyes only enough for her friend to catch the signal without alerting Grady to the bluff. “If we’re going to meet Jurgen in time, we’d best leave now, with the streets as bad as they are.”
Grady stopped shaking Ralph’s hand, but didn’t let go. “Ah yes, can’t say I wouldn’t mind the help here, but I wouldn’t want to steal from Jurgen’s entourage.”
“Some other time, Tim. I’ll be back for Suzanne.”
“I’ll be waiting, my friend.” Grady slapped him on the shoulder and finally let go of his hand, leaving Ralph to wipe the sweat off on his pant leg.
Shandy waited patiently for them to finish their goodbye, then followed Ralph out into the streets. “What was all that about?”
He looked over his shoulder at the hospital doors, eyes darting into the late afternoon shadows. “Not yet.”
They rounded a corner and Shandy lost sight of him when he broke into a sprint and rounded the next building on the right. She caught up with him on the other side where he had slowed to a fast walk.
“What are you doing? I nearly lost you!”
“They had lookouts on the roof and in the neighboring buildings. I didn’t want to be overheard.” Ralph searched the ground near the alley entrance and found a sturdy looking block of stone. He sat down gingerly and rubbed his face with both hands.
“Over heard doing what?”
“Grady’s planning to take over.”
Shandy was still feeling restless from being trapped in that office avoiding bothersome questions, so she opted to remain standing. “What do you mean? The hospital?”
“No. Everything! He’s just waiting for Jurgen to die.”
“That may take awhile.”
Ralph was becoming exasperated with Claire’s naivete. “What do think the odds were that Jurgen would come out all this alive?”
Odds she could handle. “I’d say about 10 to 1 - maybe less.”
“Maybe a lot less.”
“You’re saying Grady was going to sit back and let the plan fail - let Jurgen be executed - then take control of the entire Underground?” Ralph nodded and rubbed his face some more. Shandy leaned against a wall and slid to the ground with her knees curled to her chest. “That’s a risky move, even if Jurgen had been killed. The Grammaton would come in force and wipe most of them out - the resistance would be left with practically nothing.”
“Yes, but he’d be the ruler of that nothing, which in Grady’s eyes is the way it should be.” He leaned back and turned his head to the side to regard the junior cleric.
“How can you be sure?”
“Cary tried to recruit me into “The Plan” while we were waiting to see Suzanne. Plus it’s all in his eyes. He wants power and he wants to make Libria in his own image. There is no other way for men like Grady.”
Shandy stood up and dusted her hands off.
“Where are you going?”
“To meet with Jurgen at the Hall of Justice.” She started in that direction then stopped and looked back at her companion. “Are you coming?”
He smiled and followed her. “I thought that was just a bluff.”
“It was, but some body’s got to keep Jurgen and Preston out of trouble.” She looked back at him and gave a wry smile then added, “so I can see the look on Tim Grady’s face when he finds out they’re still alive.”
===
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Post by clericjay on Feb 2, 2008 16:30:53 GMT -5
Good work! ;D I appreciate your writing style very much and that you take the time to describe the on-going of the "Revolution" so detailed. If this would have been my story, I would have jumped over this part very roughly... I'm looking forward to see more. And I'm sure that Grady won't be the last bad-ass of the story... Am I right?
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Post by clericjay on Feb 2, 2008 16:35:47 GMT -5
But naturally. It's the attitude of any really caring and concerned person. Everyone knows that emotionality is just bad news ... what good does it bring a person except--at best--a few moments of fleeting mental euphoria? And at worst, it brings a lifetime of hatred and depression. Father's Way is best, and sense-offence must always be put down; gently and by education if possible, but in the case of hardened offenders devoted to spreading poison through society, by any means necessary. The welfare of our fellow citizens and our community cannot be trumped by the blind fanaticism of those who insist on putting their own feelings above the common good. May I quote that in "Memories of Father" when the right time has come? ;D
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Post by marphlets on Feb 2, 2008 23:22:12 GMT -5
But naturally. It's the attitude of any really caring and concerned person. Everyone knows that emotionality is just bad news ... what good does it bring a person except--at best--a few moments of fleeting mental euphoria? And at worst, it brings a lifetime of hatred and depression. Father's Way is best, and sense-offence must always be put down; gently and by education if possible, but in the case of hardened offenders devoted to spreading poison through society, by any means necessary. The welfare of our fellow citizens and our community cannot be trumped by the blind fanaticism of those who insist on putting their own feelings above the common good. May I quote that in "Memories of Father" when the right time has come? ;D Of course, Cleric! All opinions and input are welcome in the Janus Rising thread. But, to quote Jurgen: "We have a network that's larger than you could ever imagine. ....our cause will be won by human nature itself!"
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Post by clericjay on Feb 3, 2008 14:11:55 GMT -5
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Post by marphlets on Feb 3, 2008 14:36:25 GMT -5
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Post by Libby on Feb 7, 2008 16:21:14 GMT -5
Coming along nicely...we both had our OC's instrumental in Jurgen's 'rescue'...and setting the scene for more action as Libria fights for survival!
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Post by reveria on Feb 12, 2008 17:01:33 GMT -5
iiiiiinteresting. that's all I'm saying. I have to say Grady fascinates me... I just have a thing for the bad boys *whistles*
also, I'm really impressed about your actions scenes. so beautifully written, yet you can feel the tension and everything. excellent job there! I'm jealous.
*now sits back and waits for more*
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