Post by Quakerlol on Dec 4, 2011 13:51:21 GMT -6
Your name has been lost to history and the darkness of your mind. All that remains is the title given to you by your highblooded pursuers, the AGITATOR. You served to stir up rebellion among the masses, igniting the embers of revolution in their souls, before your counterpart arrived to stoke them into a fire. You would arrive in a village, spread dissent, and move on, always a little bit ahead of the Summoner. You were not the most dangerous rebel, but you certainly had your enemies among the highbloods. It was because of your foolhardy rebellion-mongering that you lost everything. Your comrades, your friends, yourself. All gone.
You had learned from your sources in the military that a new captain, a greenblood who seemed to show promise, was being given the task to hunt you down. You gathered a band of loyal followers around you and set off to find refuge. At first it seemed to be going well. Villages that you passed would shelter you, and you often took the opportunity to stir up a bit of rebellion while you were there. You never stayed too long, though, not wanting to endanger your benefactors. However, one day you were put to ground by the captain. She pursued you and your band of rebels, driving you into the breeding caverns below the ground. There you hoped to find sanctuary from your hunters, but to no avail. The tenders of the Mother Grub were determined to remain neutral. Dissent began to form in your group. It split, with the majority leaving you to try and capture the Mother Grub as a strategic hostage. You and a few others sought another way out, and found a route upward into the mountains. You never found out what happened. Perhaps they were successful in reaching the Mother Grub, perhaps they were rebuffed by a defender. In any case, you are sure that most were slaughtered, and some were captured, by the greenblooded captain and her forces.
You and your few companions escaped your pursuers for the time being and entered the mountains. You had hoped to find a cave to hide in, but instead you found a lonely tower in the middle of a forest. Not knowing whether or not the owner would be sympathetic to your cause, but at some level not caring anymore, your group made the decision to knock at the door and request shelter. A kind orangeblood opened the door, and sheltered you with the aid of her blueblooded friend. It was the most kindness you had seen in your perigees of running. It was to be the last.
You never knew how, but somehow the captain found your refuge. You fled with your benefactors, but you were cornered in the unfamiliar woods. A short battle ensued, ending in the capture of you, the two strangers, and those few of your people who were not massacred. The empress' army took you to a justiceblock, and you and the other lowbloods were immediately found guilty of conspiring for treason and rebellion. You didn't even merit a trial.
You were tortured, brutally beaten by the subjuggulator and his underlings until rusty blood covered their instruments of pain, yet you did not crack. They demanded the Summoner's wherabouts, the plans of any surviving rebels, yet you told them nothing. You were defiant at first, screaming that they would never break you, but after the third or fourth day you could no longer speak. Suddenly the beatings stopped. You were given care, time to rest, to heal your wounds. You had no idea what was going on. After you were able to stand, to hold a weapon, they blindfolded you and pushed you into a sandy arena with a blade in your hands. When the cloth was removed from your eyes you saw your moirail across the arena with an axe. You fell to your knees. The highbloods surrounding the arena cheered, shouted, jeered, urged you to fight. You were told that the winner of the fight would be freed, but if you did not fight you would both be killed. You both refused.
After the crowd grew bored of watching you sit and sob, which was quickly, your limbs began to move on their own. You struggled against the mental vise holding your brain and compelling your hands, yet it was all in vain. Whoever was doing it had complete control over you. All you could do was watch, and shout for your moirail to run before the vise clamped over your mouth as well. He dropped his axe and ran, stumbling in the slippery sand and barely dodging the swinging blade. Finally he fell for the last time, and rolled to face you as you spilled his mustard blood over the sands.
You were released, and taken back to your cell, where you curled up in a ball with yellow on your hands. The next night it happened again, and again, and again. You felled comrades in arms, people you had eaten with and fought with and who had risked their lives to keep you safe. You even had to face your host. She was the last. You barely had the strength to resist the mental compulsions at this point, but she was skilled with a spear and managed to fend you off. You had hopes that she would finally be the one to slay you, but it was not to be. You had greviously injured her, and now she could barely keep out of your range. You were terrified that you would kill her, slaughter her like the rest. Then the justiceblock exploded.
The building was completely leveled, and barely anyone managed to survive. You could see a black whirlwind nearby, possibly with a troll inside. You could see the bodies of the dead highbloods that had cheered as you killed your comrades. You could see your host in a puddle of orange, reaching to the whirlwind. Then you fell unconscious.
Finally you regained what was left of your senses and crawled to a nearby cave. There you recorded your story in hopes that someone would find it. Perhaps your descendant, perhaps another. It no longer mattered. You needed somebody living to know of the atrocities you had committed. You bound the papers recovered from the justiceblock in the skin of a beast that had tried to eat you, and hid it away. Then you gave up on life.
You had learned from your sources in the military that a new captain, a greenblood who seemed to show promise, was being given the task to hunt you down. You gathered a band of loyal followers around you and set off to find refuge. At first it seemed to be going well. Villages that you passed would shelter you, and you often took the opportunity to stir up a bit of rebellion while you were there. You never stayed too long, though, not wanting to endanger your benefactors. However, one day you were put to ground by the captain. She pursued you and your band of rebels, driving you into the breeding caverns below the ground. There you hoped to find sanctuary from your hunters, but to no avail. The tenders of the Mother Grub were determined to remain neutral. Dissent began to form in your group. It split, with the majority leaving you to try and capture the Mother Grub as a strategic hostage. You and a few others sought another way out, and found a route upward into the mountains. You never found out what happened. Perhaps they were successful in reaching the Mother Grub, perhaps they were rebuffed by a defender. In any case, you are sure that most were slaughtered, and some were captured, by the greenblooded captain and her forces.
You and your few companions escaped your pursuers for the time being and entered the mountains. You had hoped to find a cave to hide in, but instead you found a lonely tower in the middle of a forest. Not knowing whether or not the owner would be sympathetic to your cause, but at some level not caring anymore, your group made the decision to knock at the door and request shelter. A kind orangeblood opened the door, and sheltered you with the aid of her blueblooded friend. It was the most kindness you had seen in your perigees of running. It was to be the last.
You never knew how, but somehow the captain found your refuge. You fled with your benefactors, but you were cornered in the unfamiliar woods. A short battle ensued, ending in the capture of you, the two strangers, and those few of your people who were not massacred. The empress' army took you to a justiceblock, and you and the other lowbloods were immediately found guilty of conspiring for treason and rebellion. You didn't even merit a trial.
You were tortured, brutally beaten by the subjuggulator and his underlings until rusty blood covered their instruments of pain, yet you did not crack. They demanded the Summoner's wherabouts, the plans of any surviving rebels, yet you told them nothing. You were defiant at first, screaming that they would never break you, but after the third or fourth day you could no longer speak. Suddenly the beatings stopped. You were given care, time to rest, to heal your wounds. You had no idea what was going on. After you were able to stand, to hold a weapon, they blindfolded you and pushed you into a sandy arena with a blade in your hands. When the cloth was removed from your eyes you saw your moirail across the arena with an axe. You fell to your knees. The highbloods surrounding the arena cheered, shouted, jeered, urged you to fight. You were told that the winner of the fight would be freed, but if you did not fight you would both be killed. You both refused.
After the crowd grew bored of watching you sit and sob, which was quickly, your limbs began to move on their own. You struggled against the mental vise holding your brain and compelling your hands, yet it was all in vain. Whoever was doing it had complete control over you. All you could do was watch, and shout for your moirail to run before the vise clamped over your mouth as well. He dropped his axe and ran, stumbling in the slippery sand and barely dodging the swinging blade. Finally he fell for the last time, and rolled to face you as you spilled his mustard blood over the sands.
You were released, and taken back to your cell, where you curled up in a ball with yellow on your hands. The next night it happened again, and again, and again. You felled comrades in arms, people you had eaten with and fought with and who had risked their lives to keep you safe. You even had to face your host. She was the last. You barely had the strength to resist the mental compulsions at this point, but she was skilled with a spear and managed to fend you off. You had hopes that she would finally be the one to slay you, but it was not to be. You had greviously injured her, and now she could barely keep out of your range. You were terrified that you would kill her, slaughter her like the rest. Then the justiceblock exploded.
The building was completely leveled, and barely anyone managed to survive. You could see a black whirlwind nearby, possibly with a troll inside. You could see the bodies of the dead highbloods that had cheered as you killed your comrades. You could see your host in a puddle of orange, reaching to the whirlwind. Then you fell unconscious.
Finally you regained what was left of your senses and crawled to a nearby cave. There you recorded your story in hopes that someone would find it. Perhaps your descendant, perhaps another. It no longer mattered. You needed somebody living to know of the atrocities you had committed. You bound the papers recovered from the justiceblock in the skin of a beast that had tried to eat you, and hid it away. Then you gave up on life.
