05-12-2007, 10:56 PM
Snap!
A pair of tensed fingers barked as they slid against one another, and a redwood door swung open almost immediately after as a trio of uniformed figures trampled through the entryway, as if trying to reach the source of the call first. Halting at the base of a towering throne, the three subordinates took a knee, keeping their heads low and placing a right hand upon their left breast.
?Sire,? the middle one started. ?The Section Four Retrieval Squadron has returned, and Captain Grevious wishes to speak with you.? A sudden pause overcame the room; the pores upon the minion?s forehead leaked a salty liquid while his ecstatic nerves forced his limbs to convulse.
?Send him in at once,? A voice finally bloomed to life from the shady throne; the cyan-skinned keeper waved a hand, signaling for the three to take their leave, and they did so accordingly. Soon after, a newcomer entered the marble-laced room; the brute of a man donned scruffy garbs and battle-worn armaments. Unlike the triad of peons before him, this one refused to kneel, but it appeared to be of no consequence; this warrior must have been well regarded, save for his ratty choice of garments.
?How do you fare, Emperor Spice?? Grevious inquired, holding a stern posture; a mass of long golden locks flowing down his backside while a pair of beady black eyes gazed from the sockets of a pale-skinned face.
?Hmm, that does have a nice ring to it doesn?t it?? Spice replied, bringing a pondering hand to his chin. ?Ehh--Not really. Nevertheless, I highly doubt Lord Bracknell would find himself amused at your imposture.? Grevious lectured, walking closer to the throne with a friendly smirk engraved in his face.
?Yes, well, it shan?t be long now before I permanently place myself upon that royal bastion. Lord Bracknell is getting old, and with his age withers his power, both physically and authoritatively. I, Lieutenant Spice, will renew this craphole and start a new regime.? The cyan fighter gloated as he leapt down from the seat, brushing his cape from his side.
BOOM!
The room shook frantically as an echo of decimation shrieked from outside the citadel?s confines; both Spice and Grevious locked eyes before darting through the hallway. Another blast sounded, this time more violent; then another, and another. Both militants picked up speed, forced to elude falling cement boulders as chunks of the wall continuously blew off in succession. The two combatants finally reached the main archway, well, at least what used to be an archway.
?Is that--who I think it is?? murmured Grevious to his white-haired counterpart; however his inquisition fell upon deaf ears as Spice held a stone-cold expression. A massive hovercraft levitated above the jagged ground, swaying from left to right while a pair of twin fluorescent lights merged together around the two onlookers.
?The Phantom Regime, what in Bracknell?s name are they doing here?? sparked through Spice?s mind; his cape flapping rapidly against the artificial wind created by the shockwave-esque thrusters which held the abnormally large aircraft afloat.
?Now that we have your undivided attention, Lieutenant Spice, you have been formally invited to take part in this year?s undisputed event, Dante?s Abyss.? A distorted voice boomed from the metallic structure as it drew closer to his position.
?And if I decline?? retorted spice with an agitated tone; his muscles tensed while his anger rose for the sudden intrusion. ?Your participation is non debatable; you have absolutely zero consent on the matter,? a similar, yet peculiar voice intervened.
?Very well then, I shall surrender my opposition for the moment, but take heed for if deception places its grimy hands upon the situation, then you shall soon find that the dull light of vengeance can shine brighter than a mid-noon sun.? The militant spoke his final words before stepping forward; however his advancement was short-lived as a rugged hand grasped his arm before tugging him back.
?Spice, are you out of your mind? You cannot depart without proper notice, let alone leave this place in such a riot. Not to mention, this is the Phantom Regime, they cannot be trusted!? Grevious attempted to sway his comrade?s decision; but it seemed that the Makyo?s verdict was absolute. ?What? It?s not my kingdom. Besides, I think this little fiasco may aid me in further climbing the ranks of the Hierarch ladder. Do not fret, I'll be back in no time.? Spice replied, shrugging his arm from the Captain?s grip and continuing onward. The Makyo militant found himself consumed in a beam of light before vanishing into thin air.
The hovercraft lurched to the right as the rear boosters purged with flames of infernal rage, incinerating the towers beneath it as the ship was jettisoned into the darkness of space until disappearing within the cluster of stars. Captain Grevious clamped a fist and gritted his teeth, but his objective fury soon curled into a benevolent smile of encouragement.
?Hmph. Good luck, old friend.?
A pair of tensed fingers barked as they slid against one another, and a redwood door swung open almost immediately after as a trio of uniformed figures trampled through the entryway, as if trying to reach the source of the call first. Halting at the base of a towering throne, the three subordinates took a knee, keeping their heads low and placing a right hand upon their left breast.
?Sire,? the middle one started. ?The Section Four Retrieval Squadron has returned, and Captain Grevious wishes to speak with you.? A sudden pause overcame the room; the pores upon the minion?s forehead leaked a salty liquid while his ecstatic nerves forced his limbs to convulse.
?Send him in at once,? A voice finally bloomed to life from the shady throne; the cyan-skinned keeper waved a hand, signaling for the three to take their leave, and they did so accordingly. Soon after, a newcomer entered the marble-laced room; the brute of a man donned scruffy garbs and battle-worn armaments. Unlike the triad of peons before him, this one refused to kneel, but it appeared to be of no consequence; this warrior must have been well regarded, save for his ratty choice of garments.
?How do you fare, Emperor Spice?? Grevious inquired, holding a stern posture; a mass of long golden locks flowing down his backside while a pair of beady black eyes gazed from the sockets of a pale-skinned face.
?Hmm, that does have a nice ring to it doesn?t it?? Spice replied, bringing a pondering hand to his chin. ?Ehh--Not really. Nevertheless, I highly doubt Lord Bracknell would find himself amused at your imposture.? Grevious lectured, walking closer to the throne with a friendly smirk engraved in his face.
?Yes, well, it shan?t be long now before I permanently place myself upon that royal bastion. Lord Bracknell is getting old, and with his age withers his power, both physically and authoritatively. I, Lieutenant Spice, will renew this craphole and start a new regime.? The cyan fighter gloated as he leapt down from the seat, brushing his cape from his side.
BOOM!
The room shook frantically as an echo of decimation shrieked from outside the citadel?s confines; both Spice and Grevious locked eyes before darting through the hallway. Another blast sounded, this time more violent; then another, and another. Both militants picked up speed, forced to elude falling cement boulders as chunks of the wall continuously blew off in succession. The two combatants finally reached the main archway, well, at least what used to be an archway.
?Is that--who I think it is?? murmured Grevious to his white-haired counterpart; however his inquisition fell upon deaf ears as Spice held a stone-cold expression. A massive hovercraft levitated above the jagged ground, swaying from left to right while a pair of twin fluorescent lights merged together around the two onlookers.
?The Phantom Regime, what in Bracknell?s name are they doing here?? sparked through Spice?s mind; his cape flapping rapidly against the artificial wind created by the shockwave-esque thrusters which held the abnormally large aircraft afloat.
?Now that we have your undivided attention, Lieutenant Spice, you have been formally invited to take part in this year?s undisputed event, Dante?s Abyss.? A distorted voice boomed from the metallic structure as it drew closer to his position.
?And if I decline?? retorted spice with an agitated tone; his muscles tensed while his anger rose for the sudden intrusion. ?Your participation is non debatable; you have absolutely zero consent on the matter,? a similar, yet peculiar voice intervened.
?Very well then, I shall surrender my opposition for the moment, but take heed for if deception places its grimy hands upon the situation, then you shall soon find that the dull light of vengeance can shine brighter than a mid-noon sun.? The militant spoke his final words before stepping forward; however his advancement was short-lived as a rugged hand grasped his arm before tugging him back.
?Spice, are you out of your mind? You cannot depart without proper notice, let alone leave this place in such a riot. Not to mention, this is the Phantom Regime, they cannot be trusted!? Grevious attempted to sway his comrade?s decision; but it seemed that the Makyo?s verdict was absolute. ?What? It?s not my kingdom. Besides, I think this little fiasco may aid me in further climbing the ranks of the Hierarch ladder. Do not fret, I'll be back in no time.? Spice replied, shrugging his arm from the Captain?s grip and continuing onward. The Makyo militant found himself consumed in a beam of light before vanishing into thin air.
The hovercraft lurched to the right as the rear boosters purged with flames of infernal rage, incinerating the towers beneath it as the ship was jettisoned into the darkness of space until disappearing within the cluster of stars. Captain Grevious clamped a fist and gritted his teeth, but his objective fury soon curled into a benevolent smile of encouragement.
?Hmph. Good luck, old friend.?