- Jul 30, 2003
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So, I'm planning on making a story about an evil crime/political/etc. organisation with dreams to rule the world for some reason. Too bad for them, the leader has been captured and is on trial! The story starts as the group, called Helix Skull, desprately trys to rescue him. Here's the starting post, tell me if you're interested at all:
The largest courtroom in the country had been chosen for the occasion. The most infamous and feared felon in all Christia had been brought to trial at long last. A crowd waited outside, eargerly awaiting their own twenty-minute ticket for the audience. The cloudless, sunny sky and heat wave which had swept the country didn't turn a single person away from this once in a lifetime entertainment. Over three hundred city guards were patroling the courthouse square, with a mix of hope that their greatest enemy would be executed and fear of a desprate rescue attempt by the Helix Skull...
"...two hundred three attempted murders, with the first on the ninetenth of June... one-thousand one-hundred forty conspiricies..."
Inside, the criminal, known as Acheron, could only stare at the floorboards of the defendant's box as the three judges read the amazingly long list of charges. Acheron was of medium height, and the dress clothing his lawyer had bought him for the trial were marginal at best. His greying hair was ritually kept half the lenght of his body, poorly tied in a few knots by the guards in the hope that it wouldn't offend the crowd so much.
The judges finished reading the charges some after some time. The cheif judge, an skinny middle-aged aristocrat chosen by the King himself to rule on this case, cleared his throat. He tried to speak, but found he had lost most of his voice. He signaled to one of the guards to get him something to drink.
After the guard did not return for several minutes, another judge, a very fat man, began to ask the question. He had a very deep, but not a gravelly, voice and spoke very softly. However, because of the acoustics of the courtroom, everyone was able to hear.
"Defendant, your lawyer has requested that you be called 'Acheron' for the duration of the trial because of the fear of..." The judge was interupted by the guard returning with three golden cups of a steaming red wine on a serving tray. Each took one, and took long gulps, oblivious to social graces because of the exertion of reading the list of charges. Slamming the cup down and letting out a long sigh, the second judge began to speak again. "Ah... as I was saying, your lawyer has requested that you be called 'Acheron' for the duration of the trial because of the fear of an attack on your family. Your request has been, um..." The judge scrambled his hands around on the table, looking for a document.
The first judge picked up an envelope with his long bony fingers. Taking a letter-opener, he withdrew the document from the envelope and picked it up to his eyes. With a satisfied, but strangely wicked smile, he said, "your request has been denied. You will be called by your true nam... uh!"
At that moment, the head judge fell over, dead. The other two gasped in horror and stared at the corpse, before the third judge fell backwards off his seat, just as dead. The crowd screamed and ran out, many being trampled. The second, fat judge tried to run, but collasped after going just a few feet. The guards took hold of Acheron and tried to get him back to the dungeon. The attack had begun!
The largest courtroom in the country had been chosen for the occasion. The most infamous and feared felon in all Christia had been brought to trial at long last. A crowd waited outside, eargerly awaiting their own twenty-minute ticket for the audience. The cloudless, sunny sky and heat wave which had swept the country didn't turn a single person away from this once in a lifetime entertainment. Over three hundred city guards were patroling the courthouse square, with a mix of hope that their greatest enemy would be executed and fear of a desprate rescue attempt by the Helix Skull...
"...two hundred three attempted murders, with the first on the ninetenth of June... one-thousand one-hundred forty conspiricies..."
Inside, the criminal, known as Acheron, could only stare at the floorboards of the defendant's box as the three judges read the amazingly long list of charges. Acheron was of medium height, and the dress clothing his lawyer had bought him for the trial were marginal at best. His greying hair was ritually kept half the lenght of his body, poorly tied in a few knots by the guards in the hope that it wouldn't offend the crowd so much.
The judges finished reading the charges some after some time. The cheif judge, an skinny middle-aged aristocrat chosen by the King himself to rule on this case, cleared his throat. He tried to speak, but found he had lost most of his voice. He signaled to one of the guards to get him something to drink.
After the guard did not return for several minutes, another judge, a very fat man, began to ask the question. He had a very deep, but not a gravelly, voice and spoke very softly. However, because of the acoustics of the courtroom, everyone was able to hear.
"Defendant, your lawyer has requested that you be called 'Acheron' for the duration of the trial because of the fear of..." The judge was interupted by the guard returning with three golden cups of a steaming red wine on a serving tray. Each took one, and took long gulps, oblivious to social graces because of the exertion of reading the list of charges. Slamming the cup down and letting out a long sigh, the second judge began to speak again. "Ah... as I was saying, your lawyer has requested that you be called 'Acheron' for the duration of the trial because of the fear of an attack on your family. Your request has been, um..." The judge scrambled his hands around on the table, looking for a document.
The first judge picked up an envelope with his long bony fingers. Taking a letter-opener, he withdrew the document from the envelope and picked it up to his eyes. With a satisfied, but strangely wicked smile, he said, "your request has been denied. You will be called by your true nam... uh!"
At that moment, the head judge fell over, dead. The other two gasped in horror and stared at the corpse, before the third judge fell backwards off his seat, just as dead. The crowd screamed and ran out, many being trampled. The second, fat judge tried to run, but collasped after going just a few feet. The guards took hold of Acheron and tried to get him back to the dungeon. The attack had begun!
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