Diavolo Rosso
Lord Giggles
Thx to killerclowns, for great stories and the princess rule. And thx to U2 for inspiration and some of the words.
Prosed Justice
Prosed Justice
Spoiler :
Almost time for the kill; he stayed underneath the stage in the shadows, waiting. Just above him a megalomaniac yelled his loudest, and enjoyed it with the greatest pleasure. The longer he went on the louder the crowd howled. At first it was just murmurs and growls. Now it rose into a clamorous howl. This man was creating a mob, and for no other purpose than his own money and power. The man’s silvered tongue was as dangerous as any sword. Calem’s masters knew this, and used it to the fullest. In the shadows, Calem waited. He knew the signal was coming any minute now, and filled the needle in his fake ring with his own recipe of fast acting poison. It was almost time to strike.
“This tyrannical slime holds your lives in his greedy hands. He takes your money, and calls it ‘taxes.’ He takes your harvest, and calls it a ‘tithe’. He takes your children, and calls it ‘service.’ It doesn’t matter what this king may call it. For that is what he is. This Sabathiel rules you, and your only choice is obedience or punishment. He is taking everything that is yours in this life. But he has no right to what is yours! He has an obligation to protect us, not take from us. Yet, the past stands bare before us. Look what we have lost these last ten years! How long has it been since we have seen our land flow with the promised milk and honey? How long before they come for what’s left? How long before even that is not enough? How long before he comes for our very lives?”
The mob reverberated with a blusterous roar. They cried for justice, they cried for their lost prosperity, but most of all they cried for vengeance. They begged for it, and they craved it. They wanted vengeance against a man who gave them everything, but was still not enough. By the end of this night they would cry for his blood. That’s where Calem came in. By the time this was over, those here would witness an assassination, and the orator’s death would solidify the reality of a tyrant persecuting his people. The revolution would spread beyond this simple village as gossip spread like wildfire among the neighboring populace of Vallus. That blithering maniac on the stage above paused, no doubt basking in the anger of the mob. For him there was no difference between anger and glory. For Calem only the kill gave him glory.
“It is only right to want more, to want better. To hope for more and to hope for better is the core of life. It is our reason for living. Turn away from this tyrant, a mere man who claims to be an angel, who with his ‘divinity’ takes from you with impunity. Turn away from this pathetic being you have never even laid eyes on, and turn to a true king, the only king, the King of Hope.”
Closing his eyes wouldn’t make it go away. Japheth watched as his father hooted and howled with the rest of the lunatics scattered about the crowd. He really didn’t want to come, but his father insisted that since Japheth came back things had changed, and he needed to see what the empire had become. His father and his friends blamed Sabathiel for all their problems. A war they had wanted, they now blamed on their leader, an angel who had rescued their ancestors from hell itself. Japheth opened his eyes, denial couldn’t help him now. The war Japheth had served in, his own hell, was simultaneously trumpeted as a wise decision and Sabathiel’s greatest failure. The wisdom was the popular will supporting those who could in the elder council declare it, and did. The failure was proceeding to wage it. A great deal was lost to defeat the dark elves. The war hawks claimed the victory was their doing, while the egregious loss of life and soldiers was the fault of Sabathiel. It was egotism in the extreme. It was politics.
Japheth pushed his way forward, struggling to get past his father and men who had known him the whole of his life. The great number of people all about made progress difficult. Though, he had been a soldier in the war against the Svartalfar. This didn’t come close to the worst difficulties he had surmounted. From mistforms to drowned and sadistic cultists, Japheth had seen it all, survived it all, and with his fellow champions overcome all. Finally he made it to the stage and hoisted himself upon it. The speaker grew wary and backed away, fearing violence.
Japheth took it as an opportunity to claim his people’s attention. “I’ve had enough of this!” They roared again, thinking he was supporting the Savant, who hadn’t yet let his guard down. Japheth continued, “I’ve had enough of hearing old men come up to me and talk of the glory of the revolution…and the glory of dying for the revolution!” Many jeered. “They don’t talk about the glory of killing for the revolution. What’s the glory in taking a man from his bed and running him through in front of his woman and children? Where’s the glory in that?” The crowd quieted some. Japheth could see his father, looking embarrassed by his son’s words.
“Where’s the glory in taking hammers and pitchforks, and attacking a Remembrance Day parade of the olden guard? The medals taken out and polished up for the day; where’s the glory in that? To leave them dying, or crippled for life…or dead, under the rubble of the revolution that the rest of us don’t want. No more. No more!” Some in the crowd, like him, and others not like him began to take up the chant. “No more! No more!” It grew. Those who were silent saw they were not alone. Soon the chant drowned out the cries for vengeance.
“Wipe your tears away. Wipe your blood shot eyes, and see what we have become. Don’t let petty men bully you into believing that good is evil and evil is good. The real battle has just begun! To claim victory, walk away. We’ll shun these warmongers. Show your parents, your brothers and your sisters that we have fought too hard and too long against an enemy of our own making. With our old foes gone we are creating our enemies from those amongst us! Shun this man who says he brings hope, yet whose words fill us with Aeron’s poison. Shun him, and live in peace. Take what we’ve so dearly won.” The chanting continued. Some who were chanting even began to leave, putting action to Japheth’s words.
The silver tongued politician tried again to captivate the crowd’s attention with his fiery rhetoric. “How can you forget what it is to be Bannor! True patriots stand together, and fear nothing. Especially not war! True patriots will fight, and throw the shackles of a tyrant to the ground. We will persevere, we will prosper once again.” But others followed those already leaving, not wanting to be left behind by their friends and loved ones. The demagogue’s words fell on deaf ears. Soon the crowd was a shadow of itself, and then it became just some people walking about. Japheth’s father still stood there, giving his son a look of pure disappointment, then turned and left. The savant next to Japheth on the stage stood dumbfounded. He gathered himself, and promptly spit at Japheth’s feet. It would have taken nothing to break the man’s neck. By Bannor law such an insult to a decorated veteran was punishable by death, and the word of a veteran would always be taken over that of a foreigner. But Japheth had seen enough of death. He turned and walked home, whistling all the while, knowing that night he had helped save souls from the veiled lies of evil men.
Calem followed the Savant in the shadows. He took a shortcut down the next alley getting ahead of his prey. He turned the switch on his ring and the needle popped out. The Savant rounded the corner and saw Calem. “Where’s my reward. I completed the mission, and success was not mandated for my pay.” Calem said, “Come here. I left it secured below this manhole. Your reward is down there.” The Savant came over and lifted the sewer grate. “I don’t see it.” He then felt a pin prick his neck, and turned to see Calem behind him. “What was that? You…you poisoned me!” “Yes, but it was only a paralytic. You should be starting to feel the numbing agents already. It works exceedingly fast. In a minute the numbing sensation will fade, and you’ll be able to feel everything. I’d imagine you’re trying to manage a look of horror on your face. Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. The rats will.” The Savant tried to scream, but only gurgling noises came out. “Well we can’t have that. I don’t want somebody walking by and finding you before you’re decomposing.” Calem took a rag and shoved it down his throat. “You see, you didn’t fail. These Bannor love vengeance. They call it justice, but you and I both know the truth. They’re the same thing. Your gruesome death will cause an outrage, and those who welcomed your words will reignite your fallen torch.”
Calem smiled at his prey, “Did you really think the Veil would let you fail? It seems your own hope got the best of you.” With that, he shoved him in the sewer. The savant fell several feet and heard a sickening crunch. He didn’t feel the pain of his left leg bent the wrong way. His head was floating in the sewage, and he coughed as some of his face submerged. Looks like he would drown first. Then he started feeling tiny bites on his other leg, and something was tugging on his ear…
“This tyrannical slime holds your lives in his greedy hands. He takes your money, and calls it ‘taxes.’ He takes your harvest, and calls it a ‘tithe’. He takes your children, and calls it ‘service.’ It doesn’t matter what this king may call it. For that is what he is. This Sabathiel rules you, and your only choice is obedience or punishment. He is taking everything that is yours in this life. But he has no right to what is yours! He has an obligation to protect us, not take from us. Yet, the past stands bare before us. Look what we have lost these last ten years! How long has it been since we have seen our land flow with the promised milk and honey? How long before they come for what’s left? How long before even that is not enough? How long before he comes for our very lives?”
The mob reverberated with a blusterous roar. They cried for justice, they cried for their lost prosperity, but most of all they cried for vengeance. They begged for it, and they craved it. They wanted vengeance against a man who gave them everything, but was still not enough. By the end of this night they would cry for his blood. That’s where Calem came in. By the time this was over, those here would witness an assassination, and the orator’s death would solidify the reality of a tyrant persecuting his people. The revolution would spread beyond this simple village as gossip spread like wildfire among the neighboring populace of Vallus. That blithering maniac on the stage above paused, no doubt basking in the anger of the mob. For him there was no difference between anger and glory. For Calem only the kill gave him glory.
“It is only right to want more, to want better. To hope for more and to hope for better is the core of life. It is our reason for living. Turn away from this tyrant, a mere man who claims to be an angel, who with his ‘divinity’ takes from you with impunity. Turn away from this pathetic being you have never even laid eyes on, and turn to a true king, the only king, the King of Hope.”
Closing his eyes wouldn’t make it go away. Japheth watched as his father hooted and howled with the rest of the lunatics scattered about the crowd. He really didn’t want to come, but his father insisted that since Japheth came back things had changed, and he needed to see what the empire had become. His father and his friends blamed Sabathiel for all their problems. A war they had wanted, they now blamed on their leader, an angel who had rescued their ancestors from hell itself. Japheth opened his eyes, denial couldn’t help him now. The war Japheth had served in, his own hell, was simultaneously trumpeted as a wise decision and Sabathiel’s greatest failure. The wisdom was the popular will supporting those who could in the elder council declare it, and did. The failure was proceeding to wage it. A great deal was lost to defeat the dark elves. The war hawks claimed the victory was their doing, while the egregious loss of life and soldiers was the fault of Sabathiel. It was egotism in the extreme. It was politics.
Japheth pushed his way forward, struggling to get past his father and men who had known him the whole of his life. The great number of people all about made progress difficult. Though, he had been a soldier in the war against the Svartalfar. This didn’t come close to the worst difficulties he had surmounted. From mistforms to drowned and sadistic cultists, Japheth had seen it all, survived it all, and with his fellow champions overcome all. Finally he made it to the stage and hoisted himself upon it. The speaker grew wary and backed away, fearing violence.
Japheth took it as an opportunity to claim his people’s attention. “I’ve had enough of this!” They roared again, thinking he was supporting the Savant, who hadn’t yet let his guard down. Japheth continued, “I’ve had enough of hearing old men come up to me and talk of the glory of the revolution…and the glory of dying for the revolution!” Many jeered. “They don’t talk about the glory of killing for the revolution. What’s the glory in taking a man from his bed and running him through in front of his woman and children? Where’s the glory in that?” The crowd quieted some. Japheth could see his father, looking embarrassed by his son’s words.
“Where’s the glory in taking hammers and pitchforks, and attacking a Remembrance Day parade of the olden guard? The medals taken out and polished up for the day; where’s the glory in that? To leave them dying, or crippled for life…or dead, under the rubble of the revolution that the rest of us don’t want. No more. No more!” Some in the crowd, like him, and others not like him began to take up the chant. “No more! No more!” It grew. Those who were silent saw they were not alone. Soon the chant drowned out the cries for vengeance.
“Wipe your tears away. Wipe your blood shot eyes, and see what we have become. Don’t let petty men bully you into believing that good is evil and evil is good. The real battle has just begun! To claim victory, walk away. We’ll shun these warmongers. Show your parents, your brothers and your sisters that we have fought too hard and too long against an enemy of our own making. With our old foes gone we are creating our enemies from those amongst us! Shun this man who says he brings hope, yet whose words fill us with Aeron’s poison. Shun him, and live in peace. Take what we’ve so dearly won.” The chanting continued. Some who were chanting even began to leave, putting action to Japheth’s words.
The silver tongued politician tried again to captivate the crowd’s attention with his fiery rhetoric. “How can you forget what it is to be Bannor! True patriots stand together, and fear nothing. Especially not war! True patriots will fight, and throw the shackles of a tyrant to the ground. We will persevere, we will prosper once again.” But others followed those already leaving, not wanting to be left behind by their friends and loved ones. The demagogue’s words fell on deaf ears. Soon the crowd was a shadow of itself, and then it became just some people walking about. Japheth’s father still stood there, giving his son a look of pure disappointment, then turned and left. The savant next to Japheth on the stage stood dumbfounded. He gathered himself, and promptly spit at Japheth’s feet. It would have taken nothing to break the man’s neck. By Bannor law such an insult to a decorated veteran was punishable by death, and the word of a veteran would always be taken over that of a foreigner. But Japheth had seen enough of death. He turned and walked home, whistling all the while, knowing that night he had helped save souls from the veiled lies of evil men.
Calem followed the Savant in the shadows. He took a shortcut down the next alley getting ahead of his prey. He turned the switch on his ring and the needle popped out. The Savant rounded the corner and saw Calem. “Where’s my reward. I completed the mission, and success was not mandated for my pay.” Calem said, “Come here. I left it secured below this manhole. Your reward is down there.” The Savant came over and lifted the sewer grate. “I don’t see it.” He then felt a pin prick his neck, and turned to see Calem behind him. “What was that? You…you poisoned me!” “Yes, but it was only a paralytic. You should be starting to feel the numbing agents already. It works exceedingly fast. In a minute the numbing sensation will fade, and you’ll be able to feel everything. I’d imagine you’re trying to manage a look of horror on your face. Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. The rats will.” The Savant tried to scream, but only gurgling noises came out. “Well we can’t have that. I don’t want somebody walking by and finding you before you’re decomposing.” Calem took a rag and shoved it down his throat. “You see, you didn’t fail. These Bannor love vengeance. They call it justice, but you and I both know the truth. They’re the same thing. Your gruesome death will cause an outrage, and those who welcomed your words will reignite your fallen torch.”
Calem smiled at his prey, “Did you really think the Veil would let you fail? It seems your own hope got the best of you.” With that, he shoved him in the sewer. The savant fell several feet and heard a sickening crunch. He didn’t feel the pain of his left leg bent the wrong way. His head was floating in the sewage, and he coughed as some of his face submerged. Looks like he would drown first. Then he started feeling tiny bites on his other leg, and something was tugging on his ear…
