Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Lusitanian thugs shall never get their hands on the Nordic cross, symbol of wageslave-driver plutocrat autocracy it may be.
Pretty much all Brazilian flags for cities, provinces, etc are Nordic crosses.
Lusitanian thugs shall never get their hands on the Nordic cross, symbol of wageslave-driver plutocrat autocracy it may be.
Pretty much all Brazilian flags for cities, provinces, etc are Nordic crosses.
It was my suggestion.
Maugan crouched on the balcony that surrounded the Great hall of the Palace of Nantes, the guard beside him lying on the ground in his own blood. The blood reminded him of his cause, and why he was here. His superiors had ordered his men to wear the uniform of the Radicalau. The Arweinydd knew of his loyalty to the cause, and had handpicked him and this squad to go on this mission of death.
Their target was none other than the king himself.
Ripped back to the present by the feeling of the other man's blood against his leg Maugan aimed his gun through the railing. King Henry V tore off a big leg off of one of the chickens when he fired his rifle. It seemed like forever until the King was hit by his bullet. Once the bullet hit King Henry in the head, a rousing cry of "FOR THE REVOLUTION!" was roared, drowned out by the crack of rifle fire. The Aristocracy began to run away from the great hall screaming as blood soaked the fine food sitting on the tables. His squad had been particularly careful to leave the heir to the throne alive - his death would render the entire operation pointless.
Maugan surveyed the carnage. Their work was done. The king and the members of the council were all dead. He shouldered his rifle and unholstered his pistol as he marched out the door. When the Arweinydd had picked them for this job, they knew none of them would make it out alive. They were willing to die for freedom and equality.
He noticed the flashes before the bullets hit him. The royal guard had arrived to crush the assassins. He watched as his brothers and sisters were cut down by the Imperial guardsmen. He cracked his back tooth and the chemical seeped into his mouth. Then his body began to go numb as the world grew dim. The last thoughts to pass through his mind were of his hated enemies the proletariats, and the terrible vengeance his sacrifice would call down upon them. That and victory. Victory no matter the cost.
OOC: You think Lord of Elves would have commented on my story by now. Either that, or his country doesn't care at all about the total elimination of all the credibility the revolution had in one country.
Spoiler :
believe it or not I do not feel compelled to respond to every single post that mentions the Revolution of the Proletariat in passing.
OOC: Mentions? it was about an unknown group acting as the traditional Proletariats, Radicalau, and killing both the king and the council. You would see it as proletariats murdering a king on his birthday.