Sapheron
Making no sense.
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2006
- Messages
- 850
Hey, another introduction for people to love and hate. Project hopping once again!
The riots were in full swing. In the Great Agora, the chosen battlefield, the Mazans and Venesians were facing off, only a few paces between the two hordes. Floating in the air above them, Urana faced a difficult decision. The sound of the two mobs was painful, albeit incredible, but to rise higher would mean entering the smoke clouds from the massive city fire that raged only a few hundred metres away.
Not for the first time in the last few days, Urana wondered in the city of Aquis would survive the summer. Every night, like sparks in a forest, isolated arguments had escalated in full scale riots. Now, there were thousands of people out on the streets, and an entire district of the city was on fire. With the blaze threatening to engulf both the docks and the city granaries, the army was fully occupied already.
They wouldn’t have been able to stop this mess anyway. Urana had seen the naval battle against the Inscendians a few years ago, and it had been a civil and orderly ordeal compared to this single midsummer night.
Urana looked up and down the battle lines, chewing gently on her bottom lip. None of her siblings were anywhere in sight, not that they’d have had time to react. At least Maz was in Allandria, or he’d probably have been right in the midst cheering his supporters on. Venus had the good grace to remain in her palace and not get involved.
Still, with one of her other brothers making a timely and miraculous arrival, it would be up to Urana to end the madness.
Or at least, minimise the damage.
She couldn’t wait any longer she decided. Urana drifted down towards what seemed to be the hottest part of the inferno, where the ringleaders faced off behind walls of staffs and knives. Some of them were openly carrying swords now, Urana noted, and most had some form of makeshift shield to defend against the mass of projectiles that fell like rain onto and around both sides.
Picking her timing carefully, Urana dropped between volleys of bricks until her bare feet touched lightly on the cobbled ground of the Great Agora.
Mazans and Venesians alike quietened, freezing in place. They saw a young girl of sixteen wrapped in trailing blue silks with black hair that reached her waist. More importantly, she’d just floated down from the sky with all the grace of an actor in the Immortal Theatre, and without the wires to support her.
Everyone in Aquis knew a member of a royal family when they saw one.
Urana glanced both ways in silence.
“Out the way, brat!” shouted a Mazan, intoxicated on his own fury. He was a burly man in his twenties, with the look of a manual worker in his heavily developed arms and shoulders. The brick in his hand suggested he had been making good use of them.
Urana stepped towards him. Rage forgotten, the man seemed to realise he’d just called Princess Urana a brat. The brick dropped from nervous fingers as he vainly attempted to back into the crowd.
“How old am I?” asked Urana loudly.
“Forty six, your eternity,” answered the man quietly.
“Thank you… brat,” said Urana, settling her personal pet hate before moving onto the larger problem. “What are you doing here? I want the whole agora to hear the answer.”
“Ah… we’re…”
“You’re going home, I believe, to sleep,” finished Urana.
“Like Nyx we are!” shouted another voice. Urana’s head whipped round as a cacophony of shouts broke out from both sides. She noticed the arm whipping forward a moment too late to stop it, and what appeared to be a piece of wood hurtled through the air towards her head.
A wave of her hand hurled the front rank of Venesians back into their companions. The man who had thrown the wood at her was hit by his own projectile on the way down, and ended up flat on his back on the cobbles. Urana gently leapt the twelve paces between them, and landed lightly with a foot on his chest. By the time she reached the malcontent everything had returned to a much more manageable volume.
Once again, a man seemed to realise just what a mistake he’d made as he stared up into the cold grey eyes of an immortal.
“Do you know the penalty for assaulting a member of the royal family?”
Numbed from shock, fear and probably concussion, the Venesian declined to answer. A murmuring started among the two crowds, and Urana saw the Venesians in front of her scrabbling to their feet and backing away. She looked around to see a mass of legionaries striding between the two armies, spears encouraging the warring factions apart. The officer in charge ran over to her, dropping to one knee as he approached. The gold single sun on his chest identified him as the first centurion of his legion.
“Your eternity! I apologise for taking so long.”
“How many men have you got with you?”
“Half the legion, my lady.”
Urana nodded. “Good. It will be necessary tonight.” She looked down at the man who lay completely motionless beneath one of her feet. Silent tears were running from his eyes. He’d obviously realised that with legions here, he really was beyond help. Urana decided to finish his misery quickly. “This man threw a plank of wood at me.”
“I’ll deal with him, my lady.” The centurion turned back to his men. “Toxota! Arrest this man!”
A legionary hurried over, slinging his shield over one shoulder. He dropped his spear beside the man as Urana stepped back, and she watched as he hauled the man roughly to his feet. The poor fellow could barely stand now, Urana realised. Obviously when he came out rioting execution had seemed an unlikely end. He numbly let Toxota pull his hands behind his back to be tied.
“Let him go!” demanded a Venesian from the crowd. Urana looked round sharply, noting the change in atmosphere.
“Execute him!” shouted a Mazan in reply.
“Have the *******’s head!” added another.
Suddenly, the riot was back in full swing, the two sides finding a new vent to let out old anger. Further down the battle lines, where the legionaries had not yet reached, the two sides suddenly flashed together in a flurry of staffs, knives and fists. Screams of pain cut through the racket that had exceeded even that from before Urana’s intervention.
“Protect the princess!” shouted the centurion, drawing his sword as a brick bounced off his shield. “Drive them back, lads!”
Toxota shoved his prisoner to the ground, drawing his sword as his spear disappeared under advancing Venesians. He leapt back towards Urana, defending her from them with his body as much as his shield. The large man between her and the worst of it, Urana felt a little safer. Only a very little. The reality was that she was still stood between two armies. Untrained, unorganised armies, admittedly, but thousands of people out for blood were a concern none the less. With shields closed around her and the gods only knew what flying over her, Urana couldn’t even fly to safety.
From there, she descended into a hell of noise and confusion unlike anything she’d ever known. Around her, legionaries shoved back the crowds the same way they would any enemy, spearing anything that stood before them. The time to hold back had long passed, and their princess was in danger.
A legionary beside Toxota stumbled on something, pulling down his neighbour’s shield with him. An opportunist leapt into the gap, thrusting a spear towards her. Pinned in place, Urana could do nothing but watch her impending death.
A strong hand shoved her aside, and the spear plunged into Toxota’s shoulder instead as he stepped forwards. The legionary grunted, teeth gritted, and slammed his shield into the attacker’s face.
As Toxota collapsed in front of her, the end of the spear snapping off under his weight, Urana felt herself finally hit the limit. She’d attempted to stop this riot, and the masses had not obeyed. Like a rope under tension, her anger snapped.
Getting a hand free from the press, she swung it in a savage slap through the air. The spearman screamed for a moment as he was lifted from the ground. Then he hit the people behind him with the force of a thunderbolt, slamming through them to cartwheel like a rag doll over the heads of the crowd.
A small shred of room cleared and both sides projectiles exhausted, Urana pulled herself up into the air, rising from among the legionaries who had surrounded her. Above the battle, she could finally see the scale of it. There were thousands on each side, a heaving mass of people and violence that the legionaries were unlikely to be able to force apart.
Urana swept a hand across the front rank of the Venesians, then the Mazans. Hit from above by the force of a hurricane, people were slammed directly downwards into the cobbles. The ratio of shouts to screams took a dramatic turn. People were turning, and she could already see the backs of the two armies flaking away as the less committed realised a princess and half a legion was involved.
Urana sped down the line, throwing the two forces back as she went. Eventually, her message seemed to get through. Both sides seemed to break at once, and a full scale rout into the city started. Breathing deeply, Urana allowed herself to drop to the ground, landing a little heavier than she intended.
Around her, the Great Agora was littered with bodies, many of which were still. Along a central line were the casualties of gang war, while in great arc shaped piles further back the victims of Urana’s rage lay in broken heaps. Mist closed around Urana’s eyes, and she wondered if the smoke from burning city had dropped to street level.
How many people had she just killed?
“My lady?” asked the first centurion. She practically fell into his arms, and he caught her on instinct. It was only as she lay against him that he realised that he’d done and hesitated, not sure what exactly to do with a half conscious princess. Staring up at him, Urana couldn’t help but smile as the darkness closed in.
***
I hope that wasn't too long. Any comment is wlecome. Thanks in advance.
***
The riots were in full swing. In the Great Agora, the chosen battlefield, the Mazans and Venesians were facing off, only a few paces between the two hordes. Floating in the air above them, Urana faced a difficult decision. The sound of the two mobs was painful, albeit incredible, but to rise higher would mean entering the smoke clouds from the massive city fire that raged only a few hundred metres away.
Not for the first time in the last few days, Urana wondered in the city of Aquis would survive the summer. Every night, like sparks in a forest, isolated arguments had escalated in full scale riots. Now, there were thousands of people out on the streets, and an entire district of the city was on fire. With the blaze threatening to engulf both the docks and the city granaries, the army was fully occupied already.
They wouldn’t have been able to stop this mess anyway. Urana had seen the naval battle against the Inscendians a few years ago, and it had been a civil and orderly ordeal compared to this single midsummer night.
Urana looked up and down the battle lines, chewing gently on her bottom lip. None of her siblings were anywhere in sight, not that they’d have had time to react. At least Maz was in Allandria, or he’d probably have been right in the midst cheering his supporters on. Venus had the good grace to remain in her palace and not get involved.
Still, with one of her other brothers making a timely and miraculous arrival, it would be up to Urana to end the madness.
Or at least, minimise the damage.
She couldn’t wait any longer she decided. Urana drifted down towards what seemed to be the hottest part of the inferno, where the ringleaders faced off behind walls of staffs and knives. Some of them were openly carrying swords now, Urana noted, and most had some form of makeshift shield to defend against the mass of projectiles that fell like rain onto and around both sides.
Picking her timing carefully, Urana dropped between volleys of bricks until her bare feet touched lightly on the cobbled ground of the Great Agora.
Mazans and Venesians alike quietened, freezing in place. They saw a young girl of sixteen wrapped in trailing blue silks with black hair that reached her waist. More importantly, she’d just floated down from the sky with all the grace of an actor in the Immortal Theatre, and without the wires to support her.
Everyone in Aquis knew a member of a royal family when they saw one.
Urana glanced both ways in silence.
“Out the way, brat!” shouted a Mazan, intoxicated on his own fury. He was a burly man in his twenties, with the look of a manual worker in his heavily developed arms and shoulders. The brick in his hand suggested he had been making good use of them.
Urana stepped towards him. Rage forgotten, the man seemed to realise he’d just called Princess Urana a brat. The brick dropped from nervous fingers as he vainly attempted to back into the crowd.
“How old am I?” asked Urana loudly.
“Forty six, your eternity,” answered the man quietly.
“Thank you… brat,” said Urana, settling her personal pet hate before moving onto the larger problem. “What are you doing here? I want the whole agora to hear the answer.”
“Ah… we’re…”
“You’re going home, I believe, to sleep,” finished Urana.
“Like Nyx we are!” shouted another voice. Urana’s head whipped round as a cacophony of shouts broke out from both sides. She noticed the arm whipping forward a moment too late to stop it, and what appeared to be a piece of wood hurtled through the air towards her head.
A wave of her hand hurled the front rank of Venesians back into their companions. The man who had thrown the wood at her was hit by his own projectile on the way down, and ended up flat on his back on the cobbles. Urana gently leapt the twelve paces between them, and landed lightly with a foot on his chest. By the time she reached the malcontent everything had returned to a much more manageable volume.
Once again, a man seemed to realise just what a mistake he’d made as he stared up into the cold grey eyes of an immortal.
“Do you know the penalty for assaulting a member of the royal family?”
Numbed from shock, fear and probably concussion, the Venesian declined to answer. A murmuring started among the two crowds, and Urana saw the Venesians in front of her scrabbling to their feet and backing away. She looked around to see a mass of legionaries striding between the two armies, spears encouraging the warring factions apart. The officer in charge ran over to her, dropping to one knee as he approached. The gold single sun on his chest identified him as the first centurion of his legion.
“Your eternity! I apologise for taking so long.”
“How many men have you got with you?”
“Half the legion, my lady.”
Urana nodded. “Good. It will be necessary tonight.” She looked down at the man who lay completely motionless beneath one of her feet. Silent tears were running from his eyes. He’d obviously realised that with legions here, he really was beyond help. Urana decided to finish his misery quickly. “This man threw a plank of wood at me.”
“I’ll deal with him, my lady.” The centurion turned back to his men. “Toxota! Arrest this man!”
A legionary hurried over, slinging his shield over one shoulder. He dropped his spear beside the man as Urana stepped back, and she watched as he hauled the man roughly to his feet. The poor fellow could barely stand now, Urana realised. Obviously when he came out rioting execution had seemed an unlikely end. He numbly let Toxota pull his hands behind his back to be tied.
“Let him go!” demanded a Venesian from the crowd. Urana looked round sharply, noting the change in atmosphere.
“Execute him!” shouted a Mazan in reply.
“Have the *******’s head!” added another.
Suddenly, the riot was back in full swing, the two sides finding a new vent to let out old anger. Further down the battle lines, where the legionaries had not yet reached, the two sides suddenly flashed together in a flurry of staffs, knives and fists. Screams of pain cut through the racket that had exceeded even that from before Urana’s intervention.
“Protect the princess!” shouted the centurion, drawing his sword as a brick bounced off his shield. “Drive them back, lads!”
Toxota shoved his prisoner to the ground, drawing his sword as his spear disappeared under advancing Venesians. He leapt back towards Urana, defending her from them with his body as much as his shield. The large man between her and the worst of it, Urana felt a little safer. Only a very little. The reality was that she was still stood between two armies. Untrained, unorganised armies, admittedly, but thousands of people out for blood were a concern none the less. With shields closed around her and the gods only knew what flying over her, Urana couldn’t even fly to safety.
From there, she descended into a hell of noise and confusion unlike anything she’d ever known. Around her, legionaries shoved back the crowds the same way they would any enemy, spearing anything that stood before them. The time to hold back had long passed, and their princess was in danger.
A legionary beside Toxota stumbled on something, pulling down his neighbour’s shield with him. An opportunist leapt into the gap, thrusting a spear towards her. Pinned in place, Urana could do nothing but watch her impending death.
A strong hand shoved her aside, and the spear plunged into Toxota’s shoulder instead as he stepped forwards. The legionary grunted, teeth gritted, and slammed his shield into the attacker’s face.
As Toxota collapsed in front of her, the end of the spear snapping off under his weight, Urana felt herself finally hit the limit. She’d attempted to stop this riot, and the masses had not obeyed. Like a rope under tension, her anger snapped.
Getting a hand free from the press, she swung it in a savage slap through the air. The spearman screamed for a moment as he was lifted from the ground. Then he hit the people behind him with the force of a thunderbolt, slamming through them to cartwheel like a rag doll over the heads of the crowd.
A small shred of room cleared and both sides projectiles exhausted, Urana pulled herself up into the air, rising from among the legionaries who had surrounded her. Above the battle, she could finally see the scale of it. There were thousands on each side, a heaving mass of people and violence that the legionaries were unlikely to be able to force apart.
Urana swept a hand across the front rank of the Venesians, then the Mazans. Hit from above by the force of a hurricane, people were slammed directly downwards into the cobbles. The ratio of shouts to screams took a dramatic turn. People were turning, and she could already see the backs of the two armies flaking away as the less committed realised a princess and half a legion was involved.
Urana sped down the line, throwing the two forces back as she went. Eventually, her message seemed to get through. Both sides seemed to break at once, and a full scale rout into the city started. Breathing deeply, Urana allowed herself to drop to the ground, landing a little heavier than she intended.
Around her, the Great Agora was littered with bodies, many of which were still. Along a central line were the casualties of gang war, while in great arc shaped piles further back the victims of Urana’s rage lay in broken heaps. Mist closed around Urana’s eyes, and she wondered if the smoke from burning city had dropped to street level.
How many people had she just killed?
“My lady?” asked the first centurion. She practically fell into his arms, and he caught her on instinct. It was only as she lay against him that he realised that he’d done and hesitated, not sure what exactly to do with a half conscious princess. Staring up at him, Urana couldn’t help but smile as the darkness closed in.
***
I hope that wasn't too long. Any comment is wlecome. Thanks in advance.
