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    1. LadyAdanae 11 yrs ago

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I'm here. Just waiting for a good opportunity.
"Yes, the wine is rather exceptional, isn't it?" Verité de Merteuil let out a joyous gail of laughter, clinking her glass against that of the man who was accosting her with slurred flirtation. It had always astounded her how easily some people got drunk so early on in the day. The reception was taking place in one of the plush buildings overlooking the main square, a palatial hotel with a suite completely booked out for the purposes of entertainment. From here, the guests could enjoy an optimum view of the King's speech out of the great glass windows and on the large, sweeping balcony.

It had not been hard to gain entrance to the reception, Verité smirked as she looked around the room. All you had to do to get into any event in the city was to know the right people, perhaps spend an evening with a man or a woman here and there... peak properly, have good table manners, and know your wine. She circled the room, leaving the greasy, suited gentleman to contemplate himself for a while. The wine was not exceptional, at all. It was a bad vintage - far too sweet; almost syrupy. Which sort of epitomised the whole event. The decor was gaudy, almost chintzy, with chaise longues thrown haphazard around the room. Everyone was dressed in far too little, or far too much. The food was not up to scratch.

Despite all of these grievances, Madame de Merteuil continued her circuit. She glanced down at her diamond-encrusted watch. It wouldn't be long now before things got underway. Sure enough, glancing out of the window, Verité could make out the figure of the King with his shock of blonde hair and his attendants. A crowd had amassed, and no doubt the entire country's media was watching and waiting. The crowd began to drift out onto the balconies and towards the windows, and Verité followed suit. Her blonde hair was piled up on her head, and a red ruby pendant adorned it at the top. She had often used the shining broach to signal to other assassins her allegiance, and putting it on today had been a brave but perhaps foolhardy move. The party hushed as the King began to speak.

He, too, represented everything that gone wrong with society. His very presence was a pestilence, a decay. His withering and blindingly white smile and immaculate hair was rotting away at any sense of high society left, and with every move he made his very presence made Verité bristle with annoyance. And now he was coming for her, and she had a reason to hate him. This speech was going to be the beginning, but she had receptions throughout the day, a dinner, and then an after-party. It was not unlikely that she would see him, in the flesh, at one of them. All she had to do was get close to him, and then she could strike silently in the night.

The beginning of the speech made several members of the assembled jump. One woman dropped her glass, which smashed onto the granite balcony with a resounding crash. Verité, for her part, opened her hand fan and held it in front of her face - her subconscious expression of distaste. Laughter erupted at the loudness of the speech. Verité hardly studied the words. Instead, she watched the crowd, and the rooftops she could see, looking for some sign of a fellow assassin. She hoped that one would recognise her. It had been too long since she had been able to openly meet with her fellows.

The announcement of execution sent a gasp rippling along the crowd. Several men cheered boyishly, and a woman applauded somewhere down the line. "Bravo!" She called. Verité reddened, and fingered the vial of cyanide she had had sewn into the hem of her dress.
Anyone want to get something going with Seculcia?
What does everyone think their nation would think of Seculcia, incidentally?
TheSovereignGrave said
That's because they worship their Queen as a God. :P


Entirely correct. They also worship her as the manifestation of a particular God from their pantheon.
TheSovereignGrave said
I can imagine so, since your first post has one being fed to a bear. XD Also, blood sacrifices of any kind aren't practiced by my people; their main God is dead after all and they believe that when they die their souls join his in the afterlife. No need for a blood sacrifice there.


The main God of Seculcia is very much alive and kicking!
I think slaves have it particularly bad in Seculcia.
Hurray, I've made my first post. It's just a general introduction to Seculcian society.
SADORRA, SECULCIA



The streets of Sadorra lay empty today. An outsider could be forgiven for thinking that the Seculcians had packed up their possessions and fled in the night, had it not been for the odd slave who darted across the cobbled streets, head bowed low as they went about some essential errand. The stasis of the city was absolute - or at least, it appeared so - but there was a hum in their air that permeated the opulent surroundings of Sadorra. The sun blazed from above, illuminating the great buildings and pyramids that formed the city. Many of them were built of grey stone, and moss and vines had been allowed to grow up them. Birds trilling their song excitedly from the trees that lined the city's great boulevards, and the trickle of water from a hundred fountains were the only indications that the city yet lived, inhabited still.

The centre of Sadorra revealed why. The Great Archanion towered upwards from the centre of the city, a monolith and a monument to the power of the Goddess-Queen Ealsi. It had been built with brilliant marble and limestone from the southern shores, a circular colosseum and temple alike studded with gemstones along its facades and with the capacity to hold every man, woman and child in Sadorra - slave, freeman and Seculcian alike. As one would approach the centre of the city, a roaring would intensify, filling the air with its soft and then hardened thrum. The city was emptied, today, by order of the Goddess-Queen herself.

Inside The Archanion the atmosphere was electric and tense. On the highest level of the great circular structure were the balconies of the Seculcians. Here, the elite lounged on beds and chairs and litters, attended by their house slaves with sweet wines and platters of food. Grapes, olives, cold cuts of meats and soft white pastries were handed to the Seculcians on silvery platters by their attendants. Women and men alike dressed in the fine cloth of their status, with splashes of red and purple and green illuminated by the day's sunlight. Jewels glittered as they hung off of the pavilions that shaded the women from the sun, and the earrings of both men and women. Their vast amounts of jewellery clinked and cast beams of golden light out over the balcony. The scene was nothing if not entirely opulent.

One part of the ring was closed off with a great white curtain, studded with the fine clear diamonds that denoted the royalty. Inside, and visible only to the Seculcians, sat the Goddess-Queen herself. Eight slaves stood at either side of the woman, who herself was seated on the fine pelt of a mountain tiger atop a throne of glimmering gold. She was shrouded entirely in white, a great train of material leading down away from her. Everything within her private pavilion was studded with the blood red splashes of ruby. The white of her clothes was entirely unblemished - the mark of the royal.

Below the first ring, on a larger stand containing sandstone benches, were the freedman. Dressed in a variety of clothes of various types, with skin of hues ranging from the palest white to the darkest ebon, they constituted a vast amount of the crowd. No slaves attended them, though the occasional flash of jewellery was the sole reminder of the prestige and wealth that could be gathered by the freemen of the Seculcian Empire. The third ring, at ground level, was far less luxuriant. Darkness encapsulated this area, the standing area sheltered from the sun by the great rings above it. Here, there were no seats. Slaves stood on hard packed ground, dressed in the rags and the hard cloth clothing of their position.

The crowd babbled excitedly, slave and freedman and Seculcian alike. Today was the Day of the Red Ruby - a marked celebration in the religious calendar of the Seculcians. It marked the supposed day when the War-God Kallai had came down onto the plains of the world and stolen up the Mountain Warrior Queen Merititi to be his Queen in the Pantheon of Fire. The day was marked with merriment, celebration, dancing, music, and human sacrifice.

A silence descended on the crowd as if a great blanket had been cast over them. Atop The Archanion, a single man had risen from his seat within the Seculcian ring. He had four emerald rings hanging from his large nose, and his shaven head bore a branded mark. That, alongside his verdant robes, marked him as the High Priest of Kallai - Netili of Miïr. "People of Seculcia!" He called, gesturing to his fellows on the highest level. From the upper level, his voice rebounded and echoed throughout the whole Archanion. "Free men of Sadorra," He continued. "Slaves of the Gods. This day is the Day of the Red Ruby, when Kallai had seen the work of the Queen Merititi of the Warrior Kingdom and knew it to be fierce. On this day we honour her rape. We honour the transcendence of the mere mortal Warrior Queen to the Great Above, and her transformation into Mertia, Goddess of the Hunt. We honour own slaves today and give them, too, the chance to ascend to the Above. In the name of the Goddess-Queen Ealsi-" At this, the shimmering white figure rose, and the entire stadium exploded with roars of approval and ecstasy that shook the very foundations of the structure. "-I dedicate these games as sacrifices,"

Ealsi gestured softly, and a ruby was let loose from her hand. It shimmed in the air as it fell, landing in the dust at the bottom of The Archanion - in the centre of its great ring. The games had begun. At the side of the ring, cages were opened. A female slave, regaled in wood and iron armour that hung off of her body awkwardly and armed with a blunt iron sword stumbled, with some disorientation, into the sunlight. Opposite, on the other side, a bear was loosed - the symbol of Kallai's fury. The screams of the young slaved mingled and become indistinguishable as the crowd screamed simultaneously - but with bloodlust - as the bear charged towards her.
Opposites are always good for RP.
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