Eternal Sands - Closed

The hoverbarge drifted across the desert with its load of military equipment and supplies. A convoy of armoured vehicles escorted it whilst outriders mounted on quad bikes ranged ahead to scout for ambushes. Too far ahead, Alphonsus thought as he watched from the lip of the rock shelf, waiting with a detonator in hand. As soon as the convoy passed over the bomb buried in the sand, he pressed the detonator and watched with satisfaction as the hoverbarge burst into flames, crashing into the sand with a thunderous bang. The armoured escort stopped in its tracks at sudden high alert and the outriders returned with gunners at the ready.

Alphonsus turned to face his ragtag troop of cavalry, all mounted on struthids, horses and bikes, and armed to the teeth with rocket launchers, power blades, plasma pistols and laser lances. The rebel leader had spared no expense in arming his fighters with the very best weapons and armour available. He mounted his own struthid, a surly yet loyal beast, and raised his bow to the sky as he shouted, "DOWN WITH THE EMPIRE!"

The cavalry roared their approval and followed as Alphonsus charged off to lead the attack, wheeling around the rock shelf that had concealed them all for this very moment. A tank shell exploded to his right and he responded by pulling back the string of his bow, then unleashing a bright bolt of energy. The tank that had fired at him was obliterated in an explosion of light. So the attack had begun.

- The ruler, Leto Marutuk, has granted Issat permission to assemble a team for the finding and capturing of the rebel leader, Alphonsus Savanti.

- The Empire general, Saladin Marutuk, has arrived in Burmard and is establishing a command post.

- The rebel leader, Alphonsus Savanti, has successfully destroyed a military convoy.

- The bandit, Ciel, has slaughtered a rival gang.

The column of hoverbarges floated across the desert, their engines and anti-gravity drives thrumming like hearbeats as they steadily made their way towards the oasis town of Burmard. Even from such a long distance, black smoke could be seen rising from it, reaching into the azure sky with ghostly fingers. This dreadful legacy of battle was still fresh, only a few hours old from the last gunshot and the last drop of blood. At the head of the column stood the general and commander of the convoy, the former supreme ruler of the empire, Saladin Marutuk.

He stood at the front end of the hoverbarge, taking it all in. The amputated trees, the scorch marks of high explosives in the grass and sand, the bullet ridden walls, the gutted remains of houses, all of it. Coming closer, he could make out the dark shapes of body bags lined up on the ground by the main gate. Rebels and imperial soldiers, lying side by side. Only in death. The entire town had revolted against the empire, so the reports said, but Saladin knew that there were at least a few innocent civilians who had been caught up in the battle. There always was.

And so the cycle turns again, he thought. The Empire has won here, but the rebels will use this. They will have new martyrs, new soldiers, new targets. Friends and families of the dead here could be persuaded to seek vengeance. They would only need a small push, a suggestion whispered or shouted, and none of it could be helped.

The general stepped down from the hoverbarge as it stopped. Recognizing the captain standing at the main gate, he went over and gave a small salute, then said that one word of impending conclusion. That one word which meant, your mission may be over, but you are still a soldier. For the sake of your soul, remain as such until this is done. That one word: "Report."

Lucky was still asleep by the time it was noon. Despite his room being in the upper level of the guild hall where it was quite exposed to daylight through a wide window, it was not enough to wake up the old wolf. Just the night before, he had stayed up until well past midnight to read, fill out and sign a number of contract forms which he would then have to scan copies of and post onto the guild's notice board. All this he had left until the pitch black of night because he preferred to go out in the city, looking for entertainment. He had deliberately left his voci link off so that his day wouldn't be ruined by numerous calls, which he eventually got an earful about when he returned to the guild hall. And so he continued to slumber in his bed, sleep deprived from the late night's work which he had yet to complete.

I can't be here all the time, so feel free to RP with other players within the setting of the world. The most basic things about it are:

- The world's a desert.

- The usual fantasy races live in it (dwarf, orc, vampire, werewolf, elf, etc.).

- The Empire and the rebels hate each other, the bandits hate everyone, the nomads don't really care about anyone except for themselves and the demons are demons.

- Magic exists in the world and can range from desert hocus pocus to some truly reality warping stuff. Likewise, technology levels range from sticks and stones to lasers and mech suits.

More info can be found in the OOC threads. If there's anything you wanna add to the world, just throw it out there. Chances are that I'll like it and add to the info threads.

The fighting had been brief, the take-down swift and brutal. It was a decent sized bandit gang, but small fry compared to the one they refused to submit to. "So," Crusher said as he lit a cigarette and drew smoke, exhaling thickly into the face of one of the captives. "Who's the boss?"

The dwarf captive spat defiantly into Crusher's face, who promptly responded with a single blast of his shotgun. He moved on to the next captive and repeated, "Who's the boss?"

"Please, don't kill me," the human bandit whimpered. Another shotgun blast.

"That wasn't the right answer... now you, tell me, who's the boss?"

The next captive was an orc and somewhat more receptive. "You are, man, you're the boss. We get it now, all right?"

Crusher mulled it over for a moment... then decided that still wasn't the right answer. He pumped yet another shell into yet another poor, dumb and overall worthless individual.

For a moment, Crusher eyed the rest of the captives with dismay then said, "C'mon, you spit in our faces like that dumb sonuvabitch over there did and don't even know who you've pissed off?" He turned and complained, "I dunno what to do with these guys, boss. They're just too bloody stupid!"

Ciel stood there with her arms folded. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she watched some of her 'friends' being blasted away. She rolled her eyes and sighed a little,whispering. "Its so exhausting just standing here..If this half wit keeps blasting people away I'll have nobody left to command.." She lifted up her head and decided to speak up. "I'm the boss, and who're you calling stupid?"

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for the actions of this foolish man before her. He was a good couple inches taller than her, but no matter, this would be no challenge at all if it ended in violence. There would be one person standing, and she indented it to be herself.

Crusher boomed with mocking laughter, which was soon joined by the rest of his comrades. "I like this girl!" he told them as he approached the one who spoke. "Hell, I think I'm in love." The half-orc's eyes were squinted with a leering smile as he looked the girl up and down. She was no more than a young waif of a kid, but there was a certain dark look to her that made her look even more of a lovely little thing up close. "A bit skinny for my taste though," Crusher confessed as he took another drag of his cigarette.

"Leave her!" his employer shouted whilst approaching. The gang leader was a hulking werewolf whose face and bare chest were covered with tattoos. "She's mine. You heard what she said... she's the boss."

His men responded with laughter and watched as he pushed Crusher aside, looking down on the girl with a glare. "No wonder these pansies were so easy to beat, do you KNOW who I am?" The gang leader drew his pistol and pointed it at the girl's face. "I'm the god damn boss around here, ME. You got more balls than the rest of your gang here, I'll give you that, but no one, and I mean NO ONE, crosses me and gets away with it."

His finger began to close on the trigger of his gun. At this point, no one was laughing any more and Crusher was muttering, "What a damn waste."

Ren followed behind as his fellow troop members began the attack. He took out his power blade and rode towards the heart of the explosion. Being the daring rascal of the group, he hacked and slashed at all of the outriders who were heading back to the empire. He let none escape and gave them no opportunity to fight back.
"You picked the wrong day to be a mortal." he said with a grin as he licked the blood off his blade.

The battle was growing fiercer by the second. Explosions filled the air and at such close quarters fighting, the tanks' cannons were now useless and their crews fought back with sponson guns, mounted multi-lasers and compact submachine guns. Alphonsus had already been hit several times by laser bolts and hard rounds that bruised his body underneath his armour. He had lost his hat somewhere too, but he never stopped firing his energy bow for a moment.

An Empire soldier emerged from a tank turret and activated a plasma grenade. Alphonsus took aim, drew his bow and shoom, the soldier became vaporised in a flash of light. The grenade dropped down into the tank and exploded inside, cooking off ammunition and causing secondary explosions that completely obliterated the vehicle. The turret had leapt into the air and spun a full 360 degrees before crashing down onto the ground.

Flattened by the blast, Alphonsus was thrown off his struthid and landed hard on his prosthetic left arm. After a quick check, he was relieved to find that nothing had been damaged and he sprang up to continue fighting on foot, only to see that the battle had moved on. He took the moment to take stock of his surroundings and was somewhat disheartened to see that at least a dozen of his cavalrymen had fallen, either wounded or dead. At the very least however, there were far more Empire casualties. "Continue the attack, we have them!" he roared... and then the survivors on the hoverbarge began firing their autocannon turrets.

Shells stitched across the desert and slammed into either the ground or the bodies of rebel fighters. The guns continued to maul the cavalry troopers until someone shouted, "Fall back!" The call for retreat spread amongst the rebels, but Alphonsus paid no heed as he loosed bolt after bolt at the turrets on the side of the hoverbarge. He recognized a biker in the distance who was also still in the fight.

Ciel grinned up at the tall man as he held the gun to her face. "You've got nerve Sir, for pointing such a dangerous weapon at a lady." Her eyes narrowed, revealing nothing of what she new would happen if he pulled the trigger.

Her long black hair flowed about her in what little wind there was. Her eyes beamed with a challenging look about them. She awaited the loud boom that would be coming from the pistol. "What a waste indeed." She said, mocking the other man's words. A waste for the man before her, he looked like a tough man, for now that is. Her hands twitched with excitement as she waited for the final blow.

"I'm not retreating." Ren said to himself as he continued on with the fight. He closed and opened them again. He took a deep breath and charged again. He cut down just about any living empire scum he could get to. He destroyed another tank by slashing it through the middle. One of the survivors tried to over take him with a sub-machine gun. The survivor zoomed past and shot at him as he rode on. He sliced all the bullets and letting some of them just slip by or graze him, just for amusement. He jumped off his bike and brought down his sword on the survivor.
"What I hate are cocky mortals. What I really hate are cocky empire scum." he said as he let his bike crash into another biker. He licked the blood off his sword just to tame his blood lust as he continued his battle on foot.

The werewolf fired his pistol and a dull thwuck of impact could be heard after the gunshot... but the girl was still standing. Crusher's mouth fell open as he saw the squashed bullet falling onto the sand, stopped by some invisible barrier.

"What the hell?" the gang leader snarled as he flipped his pistol sideways to check it. At that moment, his head was suddenly lifted from his shoulders and he fell down, dead and leaking blood.

That bullet should have been your first damned clue, Crusher thought as he backed away and said, "Looks like we got a witch over here fellas." He spat out his cigarette and held his shotgun at the ready, but he wasn't the first one to shoot. One overly jumpy human screamed in terror at the sudden death of his leader and fired his laser rifle at the girl. The bright red bolt of light clearly deflected away in midair, redirected into the ground where it made an inconsequential splash of sand. Then all hell broke loose and every gun was firing at the girl. The rest of her own gang were slowly rising up to their feet, no longer at the mercy of their captors. Their leader had entered the fray.

"Take that hoverbarge!" Alphonsus shouted to the biker, hoping that he could be heard above the repetitive thump of autocannons. The gunners were no longer targeting the fleeing cavalry troopers as they trained their aim on the single figure standing against them. Alphonsus loosed one more bolt of energy then retreated behind the wrecked remains of a tank.

The rings of autocannon rounds on the dead hulk of steel was enough to drown out all other noise, almost deafening the rebel leader. He had destroyed only one out of the four autocannon turrets that were lined up along the side of the hoverbarge and still operational. The bomb had taken out another two when it cut the super-heavy vehicle in half, but it seemed that the turrets ran on their own power. Something that the spies had failed to take into account in their reports. It didn't matter any more. Alphonsus was pinned down and could do nothing more than taking snap shots with his bow from time to time, unsure of whether he was even hitting anything.

Leto sighed as he read though the pages of reports. So many of them were related to rebel activity that he was growing tiresome of the mere mention of the word 'rebel'. Among other matters, a town had been taken over and the mayor was looking for refuge in the Capital, food production had gone down due to theft (no doubt by the rebels), and cities hundreds of kilometres away were reporting that whole gangs of bandits were gathering together. It was at times like this when the Emperor wondered if his predecessor had retired too early. Leto still wasn't sure what sort of leader he would have to be, and he had the terrible feeling that such indecision would cost lives.

After flicking through the reports some more without any enthusiasm, Leto pressed a button on the console at the side of the throne, which projected a map of all the locations on Amara. Leto used it to check on the cities that reported the gathering of bandits. Such news was certainly a cause for concern.

Since the earliest days of the Empire's history, there had been more than a few recorded accounts of bandit hordes rampaging across the desert. One in the past had even managed to strike at the Capital City itself, which was eventually defeated after the Marutuk of that time had killed the bandit horde's leader at this very spot, within the throne room of the palace.

It seemed almost too grand to have ever happened in real life, but no Dune Emperor was ever a liar when it came to recording the Empire's true history, which Leto himself was destined to do one day when it would be time for him to retire. His predecessor had made an exception of that tradition however when he decided to leave the palace and become a general. "What would you have done, Saladin?" Leto muttered as he studied the map, trying to discern the significance of the locations where the bandits were gathering.

Issat had just entered the royal halls after debriefing a few guardsmen. The men in question had reportedly seen some strange activity on the border and Issat wanted to deal with them first hand. Spotting the Emperor and his unease Issat sighed. Emperor Leto was always worrying himself sick about all of the rebels and such. Nothing but scum. Why did the Emperor hesitate. This rebellion should not have lasted nearly as long as it has. Did the rabble pose that much of a threat? Impossible, they were nothing but fools and swine.

Approaching the Emperor he kept his hand on the pommel of his blade. His eyes scanned the room for threats. Issat was always double checking himself. Making sure everything was perfect and safe. Finally reaching the throne his cloak gathering around his feet as he knelt beside the Emperor.

"Troubles My lord?" He asked. He already knew the answer to that question but formality came first.

Her grin widened. These fools had no idea what they had come up against. "A witch? I am no such thing, Mister. Witches are much less frightening." She glanced on either side of her, nodding to her 'comrades'.

As the bullets rushed passed her, she could see they were starting to aim at her men. She could feel her long invisible hands wrap around all of them, so they would my be harmed. A small gift, mostly for her own benefit. She could see in their eyes, they felt unstoppable now, felt Immortal.

They dashed at the other group of men, as bullet after bullet came crashing to the ground. She folded her arms and smiled as she saw her men had managed to take away all of their guns. "Now then.." The bullets that were once on the ground, were all rising into the air, about forehead height. "Allow me to return these to you, gentlemen." For a brief moment, Ciel's eyes flashed a bright color of blood lust red. The bullets shot forward, and into the heads of the opposing men, Leaving only the one man standing. The one who had called her a witch.

"This was such a waste of life, don't you agree?" On both sides of her, all of the men spoke quietly. As if it were a daily saying of hers. "Yes, my lady. Such a waste." It was clear they were furious over the fact that they lost some of their men. But they would soon get over it quick.

She wiped a blotch of blood off her cheek and licked her finger, staring seductively over at the other man. "You have a purpose yet, I can feel it. So for now, I will allow you to live." She folded her arms and started up at the man, waiting for what his next move would be.

Crusher bared his teeth in a snarl as his orc blood flared up and imbued his senses with adrenaline. It was of little use however, now that one of the enemy bandits had managed to tear his shotgun out of his hands and redirect it squarely at his chest. Even in the grips of combat rage, Crusher could see that he was far outnumbered, out-gunned and outmatched. He momentarily contemplated drawing his two pistols, which hung on either side of his hips, but after everything he had just seen in less than a minute, he decided against it.

"Shit, lady, you don't mess around," Crusher said as he raised his hands in surrender. "Who are you?"

"C'mon," said the man who had his shotgun. An impudent grin appeared on his face as he continued, "You spit in our faces like these dumb sons of bitches over here, and don't even know who you've pissed off?"

Crusher's orc blood was up again. "You're a cheeky little twat, aren't you? Well c'mon then, shoot if you're going to shoot. Better get it over with before I do you first, maggot!"

The bandit pumped the shotgun with a resounding ch-chik and said, "He's got a good point, boss. Why are we keeping this guy alive?"

Several others made noises of assent as they began wondering the same thing.

"There are always troubles," Leto replied as he closed the map and held up the reports. "More than a hundred food vats reporting security breaches; a mayor requesting refuge here for himself and his people after losing his town to bandits; two hoverbarges reported lost in the desert; fifteen attempts by the rebels to incite the general public to rebellion, one success on that account which my predecessor is currently dealing with; and more and more and more."

He set the reports aside and stood up to walk over to a wide window, showing the night lights of the Capital City. "Even here, there are rebels in hiding who wish to see me dead. As for beyond where the rest of the Empire is... I've trained my whole life to take responsibility of it all, and sometimes I still wonder if I'm ready."

The Dune Emperor turned to his aide, who he had raised from the grinding machine of the military, who had experienced first-hand some of the general matters in the reports that spoke frankly and clinically of the horrors they summarized. "But I must be ready," Leto said with finality. "It is my duty as a Marutuk. What concerns me the most right now is the matter of these bandit gatherings. They have no identifiable leader or purpose as of yet, but I know they will cause no end of troubles when they become a horde."

"Who am I? Well, when I came to this earth I was given the name of Ciel. Ciel Lockheart." Her grin faded into a small smile as she walked up to the only man left standing. "Who might you be?"

She held up her hand, which was in a fist. A motion to silence the other fellow bandits. "I will tell you later, alright?" She looked back and smiled cutely at them and then turned her attention back to the other male in front of her. A few of the men mumbled things under their breath and she tilted her head and continued staring at the man.

"When a gift is given to you, you don't ask why it was sent. Cherish it. Perhaps you'll finally do something useful with it." She tilted her head the other way and looked up at him. "Or, maybe you'll prove useful to me. But I'm not going to force you into anything." She winked up at the man and started to walk away, along with the others.

"Although bandits may have gotten into the capital before I would like to see them do anything of worth on my watch. This place, no matter how many enemies surround you, is the safest place for now. Not only am I your sword, with which you may use to strike down all who oppose you. I am also your shield, to protect you when all others have failed." Issat held his position through his speech. He felt every word of it was true. He was the only person the Emperor could truly rely on. Him and the few handpicked by him, seen to hold almost just as much loyalty as he.

Issat thought for a moment. Ideas swirled through his mind as he tried to figure out any possible way to help end this war. One sprung out at him, it was extreme, but if Leto allowed it, the possibility to kill two birds with one stone was prominent. It would have to kept a secret, if the public got word of it then it may spell disaster. Or it may not, common folk as a whole are hard to read at times.

"May I ask lord," he asked, waiting for Leto to nod. "Do you believe the rebels in the capital to have ties to the ones absent from our presence?"

"Name's Crusher," the half-orc mumbled at the girl's back, who was now evidently his new boss. She didn't seem like the paying type too, but Crusher supposed that having been spared his life was payment enough for now. There were many astonishing and unpredictably sudden things that could happen in the wild desert, and Crusher had never so much as guessed that he would ever be trounced so soundly by a mere waif of a girl, never mind whatever whack-job powers she had.

"So can I have my gun back?" Crusher said to the one who had so insolently mocked him.

"Nope," the bandit replied. "Law of the desert, man. It's mine now."

Crusher snarled and leaned in close as he snarled, "Then you'd better sleep with one eye open tonight." He walked past and kept his hands firmly on the grips of the two pistols by his sides. It was already clear that he would find no friends here. That was fine. Crusher knew that he had so many enemies that a whole gang of them was just another fleck of shit in the pile. "So what now... boss?" he said as he caught up to Ciel.

Leto knew full well of Issat's hatred of the rebels, and that he would only ever speak of them for one reason. "All rebels have ties to one another, whether they acknowledge it or not," Leto replied. "But I sense there is more you would say, so say on and let me hear your thoughts. Though I must say, I feel as though you are underestimating the bandits' potential for damage. I understand that the rebels are a much more immediate threat, but there's no use in starting another purge like my predecessor did. It was assuredly an appropriate course of action given the circumstances, but ultimately a short term solution. The merest idea of the Empire being an oppressive force is enough to allow the rebels to resurface again and again, as they have always done. But these bandits, we can deal with them now and discourage another horde gathering for centuries to come."

Leto paused to check his words as they verged on spiel. What prompted this? he thought to himself. Was it urgency or annoyance, or perhaps stress? Am I still so new to being a ruler? He held his hands up in an apologetic gesture and said, "I'm sorry, Issat, I think I am being presumptuous. For all the vaunted powers of my office, I cannot say that I am able to read minds. You must understand that not a single day has gone by where I do not hear about rebels. I sometimes envy the Marutuks before my predecessor, for theirs were times of peace."

Otis watched the desert with eternal vigilance as he stood at his post. The garrison was only a small fort built of rock and mud, but within its primitive walls were the most advanced weapons ever designed to combat demons, spirits, sorcerers and other denizens of the Shadow Lands.

As a dwarf, Otis had an instinctual dislike of the Empire mages that also resided within the walls, but they were a necessary presence for fending off the Shadow Lord's very own power. The more experienced Rangers were patrolling the area between garrisons, walking across the invisible border that separated the Shadow Lands from the rest of the world.

In truth, the only visible sign of that nightmarish realm was when the sands of the desert began to turn as black as obsidian. Such features were not within eyesight, despite the fort's watchtower affording Otis a view that stretched on for kilometres. He could only see the true Shadow Lands as a dark speck in the distance, where coming too close would mean certain death. Of course, with the Rangers on watch, the same concept applied for anything that dared to venture outside of that hell-zone.

It was a stalemate as old as the battle between Empire and rebels, which was mere petty squabbling compared to this. There were true monsters out there in the Shadow Lands, and without the Rangers, there would have been no Empire or any place in the world that could be safe from the touch of the Shadow Lord, that ancient and inscrutable foe. Otis wondered if the new recruits truly understood this. They probably didn't, but such was the nature of youth. He sat down, keeping one eye on the horizon as he tended to his rifle.

"Now..." She hesitated, seeming to make what she was about to say more suspenseful. "We walk." She cringed at her own words. She actually hated walking. In fact she was probably one of the laziest people alive. "And don't look so tense, none of these men here will hurt you. I hope in time you'll believe me." She smiled up at Crusher and continued walking.

It was still fairly hot outside, but she was not sweating at all. One of the many perks of being a demon. "So Crusher, what are you anyway?" She probably already knew what he was, but she was far to lazy to even look over at him. And she wanted to keep a conversation going so the walk didn't seem too long.

He stood at the back, watching the fighting going near-by and looking for ways to infiltrate the opponents barracks and raid it for money but the fighting made it a bit hard to spot. He continues to examine the battle field, knowing that he's meant to be in it but decided to stay back for a while. His eyes perked up, hearing a nearby footsteps approaching him. He turns around with a playful grin on his face "What seems to be the problem? I'm just... umm... I just found this interesting coin!" He pulls out a small coin from his pocket. "I was going to jump into this mosh of a battle but there doesn't seem to be room for me so I'll still be standing about doing nothing, see? What do you think I was doing? Being a coward? Naw, it's called the element of surprise, when they think they've won, I'll go behind them when they're not noticing and BAM! surprise back stab by moi! and then I can go into their stronghold or wherever they're situated and grab some loot for me-e-e-I mean for us of course! We need some supplies, my sword is going a bit blunt and I'm sure the others are too. They wont need it anyways, they'll be dead."

"I think you underestimate the rebels my lord. Both they and the bandits are nothing but unorganized trash they're leader, Alphonsus, can organize them. That would be very bad for the empire. I believe that the best course of action is to kill Alphonsus as immediately as possible and then deal with the bandits. To do this I propose that we find the rebels that are here in the capital and squeeze the information out of them. The common folk would not like their privacy being disturbed but they need not know, and it is for the best," Issat explained.

To do such a task he would need a small team of talented magic users and warriors who could work underneath the laws of normal society. This of course is very risky business and he wasn't sure the emperor would even agree to such a thing, but he had to try. It was now or never. Leto considered the rebels the secondary threat but Issat knew that the rebels were more of a problem than most considered.

However, Issat would honor whatever choice Leto made. If he thought that the bandits were more of a threat he was obligated to deal with them first.

Leto thought of pointing out that the bandits would not be bandits if they were fighting for a cause, but he did not doubt that Alphonsus would attempt to find recruits among them. The chances of that happening were as slim as making allies out of nomads, but that did not at all deter the audacious rebel leader. He would take any opportunity to weaken the Empire, and that included the seduction of loyal citizens to his side.

"Should I do as my predecessor would have done?" Leto wondered with resignation. "What you suggest is practical Issat, but it would mean making Alphonsus into a martyr... well, I suppose it's too late for that. Any way he dies now, he would become a martyr. The elf attacks so recklessly that I wonder if that's exactly what he wants."

The Dune Emperor sat down heavily on his throne and kneaded his forehead as he contemplated the situation. It would be possible to deal with the bandits and Alphonsus at the same time, there were certainly enough resources for it. But if the bandits were to face a direct threat from the Empire, they would either flee or strike back, united or not, and then there would be war on two fronts with the rebels taking advantage of the situation. That was too great a risk to gamble with, but dealing with either problems first meant giving the other one time to grow in magnitude, also a great risk.

As of now, the bandits posed a minimal threat while the rebels ever remained on the offensive. Leto knew from his predecessor's example that interrogating his own citizens did not ensure their loyalty at all. It was the very thing that made Alphonsus into a rebel in the first place. Killing him would certainly inflame his followers rather than discourage them, but without an icon to rally behind, they would effectively be decapitated for as long as another didn't rise to take the elf's place. A difficult prospect considering how brightly he had shone in such a short span of time. A focused persecution of the rebel leader would be better in the long term, but the rebels would have strength for years yet to rail against the Empire. In that amount of time, the bandits could have amassed themselves into a single unstoppable horde and be ready to maraud across all of Amara, causing more destruction than the rebels ever could.

On the other hand, if the bandits' potential for havoc was nipped in the bud before it could grow, it would be another century or two before they ever posed a major threat again. The problem was that seeking out any rising warlords with the potential of uniting all bandits could either take weeks or years, or even centuries. Such was the dilemma of seeking anything in the wild desert, the ultimate refuge of fugitives. And Alphonsus would have had enough time to raise all kinds of mayhem for as long as he lived. Asides from that, dealing with the bandits first would carry the risk of war on two fronts anyway, as the rebels were a constant threat whilst the bandits were not, unless provoked.

All these chances, all these risks, all of these potentially catastrophic consequences however the situation was approached. These were the burdens that Leto had been taught since childhood to expect, but the sheer enormity of such decisions demanded that every option be observed thoroughly and quickly, for delay was as damning as haste.

"If you have any suggestions, any advice, then say them and do not hold anything back, Issat," Leto said, unable to help thinking that there was something he was missing. "You mentioned that the people need not know that they were being questioned. I must know, what did you mean by that?"

"Law of the desert," Crusher muttered under his breath when he saw the excitable thief, and then he said to Ciel, "Well it seems you already know my name, I won't ask how." He removed his hat and used it as a fan as he stepped out into the street, emerging from the door of the parking lot that was now a charnel house full of dead bodies. Ever since it was first abandoned a hundred or so years ago, this town had not known any kind of law except for the bandit's law. Carrion birds and bugs were a familiar sight here amongst the bullet ridden streets, sweltering under the wild desert heat.

"Look, here's the thing, Miss Lockheart," Crusher went on as he walked ahead of the rest of the gang, feeling their hostile eyes on his back. "I'm a mercenary, simple as that. As long as you pay me and give me things to shoot, I'm a happy chappy, so I got no problems changing from one employer to another as the circumstances dictate. All I wanna know is what you're about, because from what I've seen, you really don't need any of us around. So what's the deal?"

Issat bowed his head lower in apology and then stood up, ready to begin his explanation. "To effectively end this squabble we must consider all possible paths of warfare and espionage. We are contending with two problems at once which means we either spread ourselves thin and deal with both or deal with one and then another. I suggest the latter as the more preferred option because if the rebels were dealt with fast enough than the bandits would have no time to amass." Issat began pacing back and forth as his explanation grew longer and longer and he tried to figure out the best words to use and best order to explain things. He knew conversation was like a minefield. You had to carefully navigate it to achieve your goal or all would be lost.

"I suggest a small team of specially trained magic users, we already have such skilled magicians in our grasp. These people would use methods that the common folk wouldn't be able to detect. Divination, scrying, thought detection, all of these methods are almost completely undetectable except for someone who has a trained mind. After the city has been thoroughly searched for the rebels we take all of them in , secretly of course, and use them to find out information about Alphonsus." Issat cringed at the name. What a horrible person Alphonsus was, creating such discontent in the Empire for absolutely no reason. He needed to be gotten rid of. Issat shook his head to continue explaining his plan.

"Part three would be the capture of Alphonsus, not necessarily his death. If we capture him alive and secretly take him back to the capital for imprisonment we can do whatever we want. I suggest a private hearing, then when he is found guilty an execution, also private. It's best if nobody knows what happened to Alphonsus, no matter if he's executed or merely imprisoned."

This seemed like a solid plan to Issat although maybe the Emperor could pick apart some flaws in it that he had not seen beforehand. Hopefully it would work, if it didn't it will have wasted precious time that they cannot spare. Issat waited patiently for the Emperors response.

Cinders and ash- in the end that was the world was reduced too when met with the sheer strength of the Empire’s forces- Avi’sia knew that better than anyone as she had stood at the forefront of many attack and at one time at the receiving end herself. Yet old news was just that- old- and in the wake of the smoldering earth that boiled and curdled around her it was an unnecessary thought. “Get that collapsed building cleared away- we need a more finite body count before General Saladin arrives.” They had had minimal casualties, but Avi’sia couldn’t get a final summation until all the debris was ripped away and ALL the names on the ledger were accounted for. If there were still soldiers alive in the once-city of Burmard then they needed to be excavated.
Those pale-pale blue eyes surveyed the fallow earth around her and her hands went to her hips. Garbed in regulation Maratuk armor- outfitted with the correct officer eccentricities- she was a stark contrast from the bleak scenery. Skin that seemed as black as shadows, pearly white hair that pulled into a tight braid at the back of her neck, haunting eyes, angular cheeks, small nose and full lips; and all of that was complimented by her favorite scarlet scarf- it was no surprise that most knew her by appearance only.

Avi’sia turned to face one of the reporting officers as they offered a quick salute only to tell her what she was already aware of. Hoverbarges are silent- deathly so- but she still had eyeballs in her sockets and could see them rolling over the horizon with ease.
Many had accused Saladin of being too heavy handed, but Avi’sia had always thought that if there wasn’t some might behind the Empire that would fold in on itself. Of course she had been of an unpopular opinion, but then again she hadn’t quite been raised in an environment where leniency had been tolerated. When Saladin had stepped down she had felt that his reasoning was in the right place, but still wasn’t overly joyed to see such a fresh and young face take his place.
In the end though- she found herself in quite the honorable position of his second-in-command and inevitably enough authority to keep the politics against the rebels on the aggressive side. It was like squashing an ant that fallen from the path- you were only saving the collapse of an entire colony by squelching insubordination.

“General Saladin,” the captain that he met at the gate of the town offered a salute as well. “Burmard is fully under our control and all hostiles have been taken care of. Well- except one- Officer Fehlheart had us keep one alive.” He blinked quickly and then continued on, “our casualties are minimal- Officer Fehlheart is currently working on a more approximate number. She is right inside sir-“ yet before he could finish his sentence Avi’sia approached the duo. She offered the mandatory salute before she began, “you are dismissed Captain.” And without further ado- the inferior officer bowed out. Avi’sia figured there would be much to be discussed- and hoped she hadn’t been out of line in keeping one of the rebel faction alive. Of course she hadn’t had the chance to interrogate him yet. They had just found the poor sob with a broken leg and she had rather formally broken the other one before they hauled him away. “Sir- good to see you here hope your journey was pleasant. I currently don’t have any further information to indulge you on beyond what the captain just reported. I do have the ledger of missing soldiers and we are currently clearing out the rubble to make sure we have accounted for as many as we possibly can.” Avi’sia tried not to smile- but alas it was her viperous trade mark and it did look good on a face that was marred with seriousness. “And then there is the hostage- I was leaving the final say up to you sir.”

The Rangers- how did he end up with them? Right he was drunk. It wasn’t the most glorious moment in his life, but in retrospect it was the most fortuitous. Roland Reinhardt II was currently one (of the many) last line of defense between the Marutuk Empire and destruction. In countless numbers of his travels he had heard of the ‘darkness’ that licked on the edge of their kingdom like a cancer that invaded the bones and blood. He had hesitated at the thought of it multiple times but inevitably drank it out of his existence. Since then he had fought desert trolls, dragonlings, countless mercenaries, and the occasional angry noble woman (he had needs you know).

Yet now he stood- in the garrison that stood at the mere brink of their destruction. Roland was not the youngest member here or the greenest- but he was still a new recruit if given a title. Many a time he had sparred against some of the younger boys that had lined up in hopes of impressing the higher-ups and the older man had one; they had a lot to learn and hell if the Reinhardt heir was going to teach them a lick of it. He figured they probably didn’t have the pedigree he did with all the noble teachings and the inevitable (and high uncomfortable) thrust into the danger world of adventure- but that didn’t mean that they were exempt of a few good lessons.
Unfortunately given all his years (ten to be precise) of experience he mostly kept to the artillery and its’ function. One time he showed prowess in cleaning and fixing an old rifle, and now he was overlooking every little sprig’s gun that walked into this damn place.

This in itself was probably the reason he was lurking away from the barracks.

“You know you are doing that wrong,” Roland ho-hummed as he came upon the older dwarf- his eyes on the rifle that the other was holding. Honestly Otis could be doing everything correctly and yet the human would find fault in his technique. Why you say? Because that technique was not his own- which given his background- he thought such a thing was perfection.
“I once thought that the edge of the world was nothing important- just like the edge of a piece of paper- just an end of a tale.” Roland mused as he glanced out at the spread of sands. “Little did I realize when the paper ended there was the desk, the floor, the rest of the world at the mere cusp of it,” Roland grunted not amused. “At this point in my life I figured that some maiden would be at my feet begging me to marry them- pleading: ‘Roland love of my life- strongest man alive- I want you with me and to power me through those lonely nights with your-‘.” He abruptly ended and waved his hand rather bored in the air- “you know what I mean- though I imagine for you the women being far shorter and with a beard. They do have beards right- female dwarves? Or is that just an old wives’ tale that is told to overlook the stray facial hair?” He slapped a hand against his own well-manicured beard, “ ‘oh but Griselda- this one stray whisker off of my chin is nothing like a female dwarf’s beard’ to which Griselda would reply ‘of course not Beatrice of course not’. “ Roland then sighed, “my mother would hire the strangest cleaning ladies.” A pause and he swiveled those deep- extraordinarily murky- blue eyes towards the dwarf. “So need any help with that rifle?”

Saladin faced Avi'sia, returned a salute and listened patiently as she made her report. Without fail, she smiled her disquietingly pleasant smile as she spoke of the 'hostage', as though she felt some satisfaction at having brought to heel one of the enemies, those stubbornly defiant rebels.

In the past, Saladin would have felt dismayed at that. He often both admired and was frustrated by the indomitable spirit of the rebels, but he also knew that his very actions as the former ruler of the Empire had resulted in the rebels being seen by those who pursued them as no more than hounds. They were certainly hunted down like animals, and Saladin felt as though Avi'sia was the embodiment of the imperial disdain for the rebels, but she was also ambitious. It could very well be that she was to the rebels as Alphonsus Savanti was to the Empire, a well known and well hated foe who had risen far too swiftly. Her severe efficiency was certainly a match for the rebel leader's fiery audacity, and both would have been able to meet on the battlefield without a shred of respect for one another; only the blunt hatred that was required of the perfect adversaries. In his time as a general, Saladin had learnt that this was only mandatory and he had come to tolerate it.

"I would like to go see this hostage," Saladin said as he motioned for Avi'sia to lead the way, then continued on as he walked by her side, "The garrison here will be a permanent one and I want you to manage the fortifications as I set up a command post... I would also like to hear your own account of this battle after we're finished with today. Reports can only say so much."

He passed through the gate of the walled town and into the streets where the smell of gun smoke was particularly intense. Avi'sia led the way towards a nondescript building that was ridden full of holes, and towards a wide room that had been converted into a bunker, with the windows half blocked by piled debris. The rebel was lying next to the window with both legs crippled and a guard standing over him. He appeared very young and yet at the same time older than what most people would have guessed. He could have easily been a teenager or thirty years old. "What's your name, son?" Saladin asked as he crouched down.

The rebel remained tight lipped as he averted his eyes, turning away from the general as though he couldn't stand to look at him. Saladin sighed heavily as he stood up again and said, "I see that you're not in a very talkative mood right now. I can understand. Our presence here is causing you more pain than those injuries you have right now... well that's what I'm guessing at anyway. I'll talk to you later when you're in a better condition for it."

As Saladin turned away, the rebel spoke up with thinly veiled anger, "I was a citizen before all this, but the rebels were right. You're all scum. Why should we allow ourselves to be controlled by scum?" Saladin returned a mild expression which only seemed to spur the rebel on. "That dark woman over there, she didn't have to break my legs, but she did. You didn't have to destroy this town, but you did. You're all scum." And then he lapsed into sullen silence. Saladin looked at the guard who appeared as though he did not hear anything, and then at Avi'sia who was standing by the doorway. "Take him away, guardsman," the general said as he made to leave.

"Covert operations?" Leto mused, then smiled with approval. "Yes, I hadn't thought of that. It carries its risks of course, but perhaps subtlety is the best solution. However..."

Leto activated the console on the side of his throne and flicked his hand across the holographic screen, bringing up a list of reports at a single thought. "It has been attempted before, by my predecessor no less. He managed to achieve through brute force what he couldn't with subtlety, and here we are... This was his task force, all of them the best of the best during their time."

A list of names was projected above the throne where Issat could see it, all listed as KIA or MIA. "He did not have to deal with Alphonsus during his time, but nonetheless, to underestimate the rebels is the greatest folly," Leto said in the gravest of manner. "It is a lesson all Marutuks are reminded of at one point or another. Understand that I do not underestimate the rebels. Given a choice between them and the bandits, I would naturally opt for the easier problem first. You are telling me that Alphonsus should be dealt with as swiftly as possible, I agree, but how can you assure me that your plan will succeed?"

The Dune Emperor sat back in his throne as he deactivated the console. "You cannot," he stated plainly. "But I am willing to take the risk. Assemble your team. You have my authorization to carry out this operation in the utmost secrecy, and you will report to me every step of the way." Leto leaned forward and looked at his majordomo in the eyes. "I want you to succeed in this, Issat. For the sake of the Empire, for the sake of us all, Alphonsus must be stopped before we have a full blown uprising on our hands."

Otis looked up at Roland and listened patiently with an unblinking stare as the other Ranger went on and on the way he usually did. When at last his nattering had come to a stop - however briefly - Otis remained silent for a calculated moment and replied, "No." And then he went back to cleaning his rifle. For as long as he had known Roland, the man was a blow-hard. A no-good, no-brained scallywag and adventurer with a past as chequered as most other Rangers. Sometimes Very often, he acted such a fool that it was a wonder that he managed to survive past his first year as a Ranger. But survive he did and he had proven himself a worthy member of the brotherhood of guardians... such as it was.

Incidentally, it was almost time to change watch and there was no poorer choice for sentry duties than Roland. A watchman was to be the first eyes, the first gun and the first defender on the wall in the event of an attack. Although direct assaults by the denizens of the Shadow Lands were few and far between, there were still bandits, dangerous creatures and the very elements of the desert to contend with. Roland simply could not be counted on as a watchman, but Otis had no desire to listen to the man's voice any longer than he had to. He was about to foist Roland into watch duty when the walls began to thrum with the energy of magic sensors, a single pulse through the enchanted stone that warned of possible interlopers. Otis picked up his binoculars and scanned the horizon, seeing nothing for a moment... and then a sand worm came rearing out of the sand, thrashing around as though it was in pain.

"Sand worm. Got too close to the Shadow Lands," Otis said tersely into his voci link as he grabbed his rifle and rummaged through the nearby ammunition box for special rounds. Typically, it required either heavy artillery or great magic to bring down a sand worm. Both roles were fulfilled by a particularly large rifle round in the box marked with a black tip. Hand crafted by the garrison's alchemist and weapons engineer, it was a true work of art and certainly not meant to be used lightly. Otis levelled his rifle over the parapet of the watchtower and aimed carefully at the erratic sand worm, ready to fire only if he had to. The magic pulse that initially thrummed through the walls was now rippling through the sand in a wave to discourage the leviathan. It always bothered Otis to know that whatever the mages did, they always worked from inside the walls of the garrison, rarely showing their faces. Well if their magic didn't work, he was ready to handle the situation himself. Such was the rivalry between Rangers and mages, built upon an ancient tradition of tolerated cooperation and grudging respect.

Ciel laughed a little and tilted her head. "Don't worry you'll have plenty to shoot at where we're going. And the wages are very promising." She took a sly glance around and then continued walking before answering his last question.

The corners of her lips curled up into a grin. Something about it made it seem that there were many different secrets and meanings in that smile of hers. "That's for me to know, and you to find out. Lets just say, a girl gets lonely out here. Sometimes its nice to have someone to talk to. Is it not?" She flipped her black hair and kicked at the dirt a little as she continued walking.

Amethyst adjusted the red witches hat that was upon her head, then pulling on her sunglasses, looking around the building for a few minutes before heading up the stairs. It was rather tiring just sitting around the place, waiting for Lucky to wake up, she may have been with him for years but that didn't change the fact that she wanted some action, to find some treasure. "Lucky!!!" she called up the stairs, waiting a few moments before she gotten a sly smile on her face, bounding up the stairs quietly. Opening Lucky's door just as quietly, she peered inside, seeing the sleeping form of the werewolf. Chuckling to her self before she tip-toed over to him, sliding into the bed and begin to cuddle with him. "Lucky. You old dog, it is time ti get up and go on an adventure." she whispered into his ear as she stroked his fur.

The white haired witch stood there upon a sand structure, she calls it a sand structure though all it was is a cliff that the wind ate away at, hard sand is all it was. There were tunnels, little niches in the structure, but what had made it even more unique was the fact that there seemed to be buildings in it. This was her place, the place that she had found and made her home out in the middle of the desert.

Violet eyes stared at the Capital City, watching as the sunlight touched it, dawn, that was what time of day it was, and now was a time for her to go into the city and collect supplies, maybe make some companions and go treasure hunting, or kill some monsters. She could also train them in the form of magic, it had been a few years since she had an apprentice, though she was never a good teacher.

She finally sighed heavily before she turned and headed inside of the hidden building. Smiling to her self as she pulled on her sunglasses, tugging on her red hat before she pet her two feline companions, looking around the room at all the dried herbs that were hanging up. She chuckled to her self before turning it a swish of her skit as she headed down to a cave that held her horse, smiling as she looked at the sand colored stallion with his red mane and tail. "Time to get some supplies." she said to him, stroking his muzzle before she swung upon its' back, spurring him into action as they bolted towards the city, keeping an eye out on anyone that maybe lost in the desert or around. After all she did not need slavers to come after her again, a smile slid on her face at the thought, though it was a mistake for them to try and get her.

"What's. . . What's gong on? What are you doing to me?" Ren said as he was being carried to a small pit. The guys didn't speak. They just threw him into the pit. Just as soon as he was dumped inside, they began to throw some dirt on him.
"What are you doing? What is this place?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. The guys just laughed as they continued to throw sand at the little boy. As he was almost completely buried, he heard one of the other men yell, "He's just in between two worlds."
"So. . . That's what this is about." he said as he began to cry.

"Hoverbarge? Got it." Ren said as he eyed the turrets. He took a mad dash for it using his vampire speed. He jumped up and slammed his blade right through one of the turrets. He slashed it once more and ran to the next one.
"This is boring." he said as he put the sword over his shoulders. He walked away as the turrets were exploding in the background.