The Saints of Endoa – (Ebola is not a joke so please stop treating it that way.)

[Rigel]

I thought the title said "The Saints of Ebola"

[Ad Bot]

[grunterdb1951]

Before long, Aedan and Lenart were hauled off by the guards, a look of disgust across Aedan's face as he was walked through the tight streets, people looking at him as though he were a despicable being, I've done nothing wrong!  They don't even know why I've been arrested!  How dare they? he thought.  Soon they were thrown into a cell, stripped of their belongings and dressed in prison rags.  "Well fock," he said to himself as he made himself comfortable in the cell in the jailhouse.  The guards and the harbormaster spoke outside the big cell in quick and fluent Italian, incomprehensible to Aedan.

Lenart lets out a growl as his belongings are taken away and he's forced into the rags and then tossed into the cell, he hits the ground with a light thump, before he sits himself up and scoots back against the wall, frowning. "I'm gonn' fockin' break that guy's fockin' jaw." he grumbles aloud, gritting his teeth as the individuals outside the cell speak in the gibberish monkey talk that is italian, occasionally glancing around, before setting his gaze back upon them.

[SWAT One]

Night falls.

Marco hears the ringing of bells from the Cathedral in South Imperius.  There's some sort of crCIA, maybe a fire?  A raid?

Marco steps out of his house and looks southward.  An orange glow can be seen in the south.  Yup, it's a fire.  In the streets outside, you see some people pumping water into buckets and gathering food in bags.

This can't be good.

[blazerblock2]

Lenart lets out a growl as his belongings are taken away and he's forced into the rags and then tossed into the cell, he hits the ground with a light thump, before he sits himself up and scoots back against the wall, frowning. "I'm gonn' fockin' break that guy's fockin' jaw." he grumbles aloud, gritting his teeth as the individuals outside the cell speak in the gibberish monkey talk that is italian, occasionally glancing around, before setting his gaze back upon them.

Aedan sighs, looking to Lenart, "Welp, no sense wasting our time," he says as he begins to pluck pieces of straw from the straw beds, measuring them so that most are about equal length.  He fiddles with them for a while, tying all sorts of knots, breaking a few pieces and clenching his fist in frustration, he seems entirely focused on his work.  What could he be doing?

Hours pass, the building grew dim as night fell and torches flickered on the walls.  A man entered the room in which the cell was kept, and spoke to the two.  "Tomorrow morning, you two are to be taken to the capitol to be placed in prison," he said, and without another word or a chance for anyone to respond, he left.  What a great first day in Endoa, Aedan thought to himself.

[SWAT One]

Alarum bells now ring across all of South Imperius.  A large troupe of knights and Capitol Guards ride in the direction of the fire!  Surely, help is on the way!

Marco rushes into his house and grabs a few of his prized belongings.  His sword, a necklace from his mother.  He then piles a decent amount of food into a quilt, and fills two water skins with water.

After this, he steps outside to hear the usual panic one might hear in the event of a fire.  A certain female voice is heard down the road, it sounds like it's a fighting voice.  Marco quickly looks to his left and sees two bandits trying to wrest Maria's belonging away from her.  Without thinking, you drop your stuff, draw your sword and hold them at point.

"Let her go!"
The bandits freeze.
"Hey pal just move on and mind your own business."
"Yeah, no need to get HASTY". The second bandit pulls out a hidden blade, and attempts to avoid Marco's sword, lunging at him.  Marco quickly reacts, cutting the man down and promptly ending his life.  Marco then points his sword at the other, who runs off without hesitation.

"Thank you, Marc-
" Marco, your stuff!!!"
Marco turns to see his stuff being stolen by another pair of hoodlums.

Fantastic.  Just fantastic.

[Swat 3]

I continue to run across the roof tops in order to flee the aftermath of me stopping the education of some poor "witches", and see some men fighting one another. I'm going for the one dude, who's saving some girl. Wait. Two bandits come in and steal the dude's stuff.

"Time to shine..." I say as I parkour down swiftly. I tackle one of the bandits from above, hit the other in the forehead with the butt of my handgun, and run off.

[SWAT One]

Marco shouts his thanks to the mysterious hooded figure before he exits audible range.  Marco runs down the street with Maria close behind, and grabs his stuff before beginning to run Northward to South Imperius.

"No, Marco!  My father lives down there."
Maria points southward to the raging inferno.
"Maria, we don't have much time.  The streets are too narrow here.  The fire's headed in this direction, and fast!"
"Marco, please!"

"Alright.  Let's go.

Marco takes Maria's hand and draws his sword, yelling "OUT OF THE WAY!!!"  He has a booming voice when he chooses to use it, otherwise he is very quiet.  The fleeing civilians are proving to be a troubling crowd to get through, luckily, some see the sword and step to the side.

Marco begins noticing a lot of unusual wounds on some of the people.  After stepping into a side alley to catch their breath, Marco notices a dead man lying on his face with an arrow in his shoulder.  "This is a capitol arrow.  What's going on here?"  Marco turns him over and strips his sleeves off.  No branding.  This man was no criminal.

Something isn't right here.

[hodot]

i read it as saints of ebola

[firestorm]

Name: Ryan Hisenry
Age: 27
Physical Description: Ryan didn't work much in his life, or instead talked him self out of it. This led to him lacking muscle. He's an excellent runner, and prefers it to confrontation. His pale face is framed by his dark hair. This provides contrast to his bright eyes. He has a stripe of freckles running across his nose. He's often seen wearing his signature white cloak with a blue collared hood.

Skills: He's below average with a sword, but excells with a dagger. Excellent archer. Slightly above average at stealth.
Occupation: A messenger for The Order of The Holy Cross
Starting Location: En route to Ardes
Current Location: See above.
Your Goals: He wishes to find a solid place to settle down for a while.

[SWAT One]

Could you better explain your occupation? Like are you a freelance messenger or a contracted messenger.  I'd say as a freelance messenger, you'd get less work, and be okay with any faction (if Heretic, a spy), but if you are contracted, they will have put you through trials and brainwashing to make sure you're loyal, hence you would get more work, and it's likely that your ideology would be of The Order.

[Swat 3]

I was running southward, by the way.
I climb back up on the roof of a burning building and run towards my house in slums.

Thank goodness that most of it is underground with a thin iron plating seperating it from the top, but I like my simplified house on the top. Hope it isn't burning.

I shoot a capital guard trying to execute an old poor man. His friends shoot back, but luckily, they hit the shingles. Now I have a group of caps on my ass.

Amazing.

[hodot]

didn't say it was funny, that's just how I read it.

[firestorm]

Could you better explain your occupation? Like are you a freelance messenger or a contracted messenger.  I'd say as a freelance messenger, you'd get less work, and be okay with any faction (if Heretic, a spy), but if you are contracted, they will have put you through trials and brainwashing to make sure you're loyal, hence you would get more work, and it's likely that your ideology would be of The Order.

I'm freelance, hence the reason I'm not for anyone one group.

[SWAT One]

I'm freelance, hence the reason I'm not for anyone one group.

K accepted.  Will add tomorrow.


Marco once again continues southward, noticing that more and more people are fleeing with unusual wounds.

Maria stops, causing Marco to stop as well.

"Right here!  My father lives just over here!"

By now the fires are close, and the shouts of capitol soldiers and knights begins to fill the air, along with screams of unfathomable anguish.

Maria and Marco rush down a street to their right, and weave through the alleyway.  Before they re-enter the avenue running southward, Marco stops Maria at the sound of horses.  About twenty or so of the Capitol Guard ride southward, shouting, "DELIVERANCE IS ON THE WAY!" and "REPENT AND THOU SHALT BE FORGIVEN!"

"Maria, something isn't right here."
"Marco, the soldiers are trying to do what they can to help.  Let's just find my father and get out of here!"
"Fine, fine, but I don't like this one bit."

Marco peeks around the corner, and runs with Maria across the street to a house–a beat up old building probably a century old.  The fire is raging in the house next door, and beginning to set the house's roof on fire.

"This is it!  C'mon!"

Maria pulls out a brick from the wall, removes a key from its place, and uses the key to unlock the door, dropping the brick behind and throwing open the door.

"Father, father, where art thou?"

No response.

"Maria we must leave."

"Father, where art thou?"

No response.

Maria runs upstairs.  Marco checks his supplies.  Good, he still has some bread, water and some money.

Marco hears something collapse above him.  "Maria?"

Marco raises his sword and rushes upstairs to see Maria collapsed on the floor, crying bitterly.

"Maria what's wro-...  Oh my God."

In the middle of the room from the rafters hangs a noose, and in it, the lifeless corpse of Giovanni Pastore.  In his wrists are driven three nails each, and the same at the ankles—The Order's prescribed sentence for a heretic.

Marco steps closer to inspect the old man.  Why was he labeled as a heretic?  Maria has described him as a selfless and loving man with great towers of faith.  Why would the Church do something like this to a clearly holy man?  In his side is a sword wound, that bled, but had stopped.  Perhaps he had tried to stop the wound with his hands, for his entire palms are bloody.  Below his feet is a puddle of blood, with a trail leading to the wall, and across the wall in blood is written, "T H E  C H U R C H  I …  C O R R U …" with this abrupt end at the U.  No.  He tried to send a message and was executed in his own home.

By now the ceiling starts to groan and the room has heated up a great deal.

[Swat 3]

I begin to heavily fight capitol guards in the slum's fountain square. "Run! Get out of the city!" I constantly keep screaming at the poor people praying and trying to repent, but still being struck down by capitol guards.