Thread: A Conquered Empire (DaveTheHuman & XochitlDreaming)

DaveTheHuman said On the highest tower of the palace which overlooked Midrel, Rajib Malco stared silently out onto the great expanse of Heart Lake. Up until three years ago, the Erobern tribes had never reached this famed lake. Malco's father, the late Rajib Urgo, did something the Erobs thought was impossible. He united the nine tribes and led them into victory after victory until Jonra of the Laus Empire was conquered. Only then did the nine tribes reach Heart Lake and let their horses drink from the water which united the world. Then this very morning, Rajib Malco and his nine tribes of Erobern met the Emporer on the field east of Midrel to fulfill Rajib Urgo's wish. The sky was filled with the dark shafts of arrows like a torrential downpour while the ears of every warrior were filled with the sound of battle cries, screams, and the thunder of horses. But the battle hardened nomads of Erobern and their famed horses cut through the Laus soldier's lines like an arrow through flesh. Every Erob soldier present felt the pride of their ancestors filling their hearts. They felt privileged to stand on a battlefield against such an expansive army. When the battle had finished and the Erobs stood over their fallen enemies, a great cry of victory rang through the air so loud that the ancestors in the clouds were certain to hear. Standing atop the tower, Rajib Malco felt as if his father and all his ancestors were right beside him. The feeling humbled the Rajib as he held the late Emporers crowned helmet in his hand. Turning to the nine tribe leaders and others he said in the Erobern language We have all honored our ancestors today. They all look down on us from the clouds so near. By conquering the heart of the empire we have ensured our tribesmen and women will live in a new great era of prosperity. Now we must celebrate our great victory. The Erobs in attendance on the tower cheered as loud as the cry of victory and then slowly made their way down the winding steps of the tower. Malco stayed for a while longer, looking down at the great Heart Lake. He was a giant of a man, standing seven feet tall with a body covered in muscles. The Erobs treasured strength so any leader of esteem was strong, but none were as tall as the Rajib. His skin was bronzed from his race and being one with the sun, and his hair and eyes were dark like his peoples. The hair atop his head was kept short while his beard, which was held together by a bronze ring, went down to his pectoral muscles. Shortly after, when the sun began setting, Rajib Malco descended the stairs into the palace. The time for fighting was over, now the Erobs were ready to celebrate. Sitting on the late Emporers throne, Rajib Malco was ready to seal his victory in the Erob tradition of Suqora. The last Suqora was when his father conquered Jonra. His father mounted the provincial governers wife in front of everyone in attendance and when he was finished it was soon followed by the Erob warriors enjoying their own conquered woman of Jonra. Now Malco was ready to take the Emporers wife who was rumored to be a fair-skinned beauty. Sitting on the throne, Malco looked down at his people accompanied with their captured women. Many were stripped down to nothing and crying, but it didnt weigh on the hearts of any of the Erobs. Malco was wearing his usual attire of leather boots, leather wrist guards, and a brown cloth around his waist which soon would be removed. This would be his first Suqora as Rajib. Beneath him, on the steps to the throne were his blood brothers, men who shared no lineage with him but were closer to him than even his brother. They had sworn their lives to his protection and shared in his victories, losses, celebrations, and all that he owned. The men were loyal to him beyond the possibilities of love which was why they were seated with their own captured women closer than his brother and the nine tribe leaders. Click to expand... Every preparation had been met. Orders had been given, soldiers and guards deployed. Every inch of the palace had been seen to, with men standing with poisoned blades at the ready to take on the Erob invaders. Once it had all been seen two, the Empress Zosime hands had been shaking, not so much for fear, but for helplessness. There had been so little left that she could do--only to pray. So she had gone to the Altar of Xanthe, offered three drops of her own blood and lit the candles and prayed and prayed as the battle raged outside. She had done her best to appeal to the god of mercy for her husband--to whom she'd only been married a mere month--the Emperor who did battle with the savage Erobs, and for her people, who would suffer if he failed. She prayed for hours in a kneeling position, up until the sounds of battle had died away. Confusion had reigned, briefly, until the couriers had come, breathless and bloody to announce the fact that the Emperor was dead, and the conquerers were coming. It was news that Zosime had taken in stone. She rallied the members of the household and the guards to fight, even taking a long woman's blade into her own hands before the palace had fallen to the overwhelming might of the Erobs. She was a woman of breeding, and like those women, like any women, not trained in any but the most basic of battle. The Erob warriors sent to fetch her for their King's pleasure--for she knew of the savage and beastly rituals conducted by conquering Erobs--did not laugh at her. They honored her with grim faces and one even bowed his head lightly before they had lunged forward. Zosime had screamed in rage and anguish, drawing a shallow slash across the chest of one of the warriors. He had grunted in pain but neither of them move to harm her even as they knocked the blade from her hands and shcakled her wrists. Her serving girls had all been dragged away screaming, stripped of their clothes and taken into the throne room. Zosime was numb and grim even as the two Erob warriors marched her towards her impending fate. Hot tears burned behind Zosime's eyes, but all she could do now was prepare for what was to come. She had to survive, if she was to advocate for her people. Whatever humiliations and degredations came, she had to sruvive. She had to. She had though of killing herself with that blade before the warriors had burst in to bring her before their bronze-skinned king, but that was the cowards way out, even if it was the one her dead husband might have preferred. Rajib! the two warriors dipped their head before their golden king. Narenai refused to bow instead looking up at the conquerer with ferocious sapphire eyes. He was a beautiful barbarian, she realized, muscles rippling beneath bronzed skin, an oiled beard held by a bauble and grim, fierce eyes and bloodied hands. The blood of her husband. And she was afraid, though she did not blink, instead staring at him, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of rape in front of her sobbing subjects, the final humiliation of their people mortified her, but she could not break down, and she would not cry, no matter what he did. She couldn't. She had to stay strong, for them. Blood brother, Hezkia said, gripping the woman's forearm and ignoring the shallow cut across his chest as he addressed his Rajib. We bring you the Empress. She is everything she has been rumored to be, now but a slave before your throne.