okay, at last A New Power continued. This thread will cover all events that happen after and during the meeting that is going up to the end of this epic story, unless of course I decide to make a sequel.
Full Version: A New Power
| QUOTE |
| Pre Rp history The peaceful Galoric Emperor was overthrown by a merciless invading force, but before the year and a half long war was over the defense had reduced the invaders army by half. Unfortunately, that was not enough, with a final decisive action Tarnisus Darel (the prime military adviser for Adtonius Horus, the monarch of a Northern Kingdom led his last armada of over 70,000 soldiers into Rakatal, the capital province of the Galoric Empire and crushed the capital city. Shortly after his victory Darel declared himself emperor and separated himself from Horus. A New Power part one picks up about two years after these events, and tells of an invading force come to take advantage of the fledgling empire trying to rebuild itself after war, their fist attempt failed at the cost of hundreds of lives. Quarian and the rest of the allocated players lead this defense. Now it is your turn to decide the fate of the Galoric Empire. In a yet further weakened state the Empire is open for the taking, but undoubtedly you will not be the only one who seeks this. |
read this, but don't worry about its details, as it was wrote for part one and could confuse you if you try to match it to part two
| QUOTE |
| Pre Part One Info -Rules: No one post kills of another player, I will judge on this. As for killing an enemy, do what you like but be realistic, in other words don't charge into a battalion of ten Imperial soldiers and explain how you killed them all. You start with nothing but the clothes on your back, and your first post must be meeting me at the location specified, assume that your character is expected to arrive and knows where to find 'my letter' as if they were informed earlier. You are allowed to defect to the enemy, however I control the enemy soldiers around you (other than when you say that you are attacked or the reaction of a soldier after you attack him). I will act as a game controler, however you can decide to search a body and decide whether you find what you are looking for or not, just keep it realistic, don't kill a farmer then find an imperial broadsword on him. Try not to alter the basic storyline that I will be setting up throughout the RPG, however as I said, you can choose your characters actions and defect if you like, but if have stated that an enemy army is headed towards us then don't say that you ran ahead and found out that there was nothing. -NO MAGIC- Well that's it. -Setting: My home lies deep within the eastern foothills of the Rakatal Mountains, which mark the extent of the empire in that direction. From them flows the icy cold, Rakatal River, it continues down through the valley and through the Imperial City before dissapearing into the dense forests beyond. The Imperial City itself is vast, dangerous and the center of everything, I visited there often to sell my produsebefore Emperor Denilk was overthrown by the invaders. The new Emperor who has claimed the throne there rules cruely and viciously. My family was murdered as an example to others when his great army swept across the land. The Imperial City is walled on all sides by a paliside wall, within that there are packed streets with houses until they brush up against the enormous stone walls of the Imperial Fortress. Within those the nobles live with there families and there are the stables and barrackses for his armys. The inner most part of the city is the Keep, it is a single structure shaped like a rectangle, towering up above the entire city. It is visible even from my former home with the new Flag being flown as a symbol of his power. Outside the city's paliside walls the farmers live, in fact all that is to be seen between that paliside wall and the foothills is one huge expance of farmland, interupted only by the Rakatal River itself. In which the tower Belanser on a small island, it serves as a watch tower, and I know that it is heavily armed, once I saw great flaming objects fly from it's top and land with an explosion right in the center of a rebellious mob. We will be much more secretive... until the time is right. |
a summary of the events in part one
| QUOTE |
| what has happened so far... My A New power RPG is nearing the end of its Exposition, throwing the people into an all-out war for cntrol of the Empire. We desperatly need members, sign up here. If you join feel free to play as the leader of a nearby province, willing to try to take over the Empire yourself with YOUR army. I ask that you start out reletively non-powerful and progress in the game. basically, Quarian has established his alliance and they have hired mercanaries and/or brought peasants to their side. IT was the night before their planned attack when they found that someone else had beat them to it. I placed various clues and forshadowing to that plot twist that I don't need to mention. Now my character is injured and trapped in the Imperial city as the invaders begin their sweep through the streets. But a defence has arrived and a battle for the city itself is imminent, if not happening. |
Back in the intro thread...
| QUOTE |
| Evening, Emperors Council Chambers Quarian looks across the oaken table at Aseir, waiting for him to speak. Thrin had found his way to the table also, forming a strange melting pot of people. Vengul, a traveling foreigner, Thrin, a freelancer seeking revenge upon his enemies, Aseir, A Habassan general, Kataiyo, a dojo student, Akechi, the young man who had saved Quarians own life. "Where is Alenee B'Elen?" Quarian directied this question to Aseir, "Has she fallen?" |
| QUOTE |
| Not knowing who Alenee was, much less if she was alive or not, Thrin said nothing. And while he sympathized for them should their close ally be lost, he frankly didn't feel any emotion for or against the person. Had he known them maybe he would feel different, but he had other things on his mind. He dimly remembered passing out, and then being moved from the courtyard in broken flashes. He remembered seeing a lot of blood, but wether it was his or someone elses he didn't remember. Everything then seemed so different. But he clearly remembered the voice. Unlike the dream, which he had forgotten when he woke, the voice then stayed with him.. He only knew one of the words, surrender. The fact that he only knew that one word was not only perplexing, but frightening. He dared not think of what may have happened had he surrendered. None the less, he had been bandaged in short order, and had a moderate rest, but was still weary. A medic had told him that it was from loosing so much blood in the battle, and he hardly doubted that, but it was more then just weakness. It was the fatigue of the battle, and the adrenaline letdown. It was a wonder that he had made it up to the Emporer's council hall, by all standards he probably should have been dead in that battle.. It was more of a wonder that he was even alive. True, it would take a bit to recover from the battle, but the mere fact that he had an opportunity to recover amazed him. He knew why he never liked open combat, this only proved his resoning. He'd much rather harrass an army with a small group of men than fight them in an all out meat grinder. He could accomplish much more using his tactics, he figured, even a much larger army would fall if you were careful and conservative. Dead was dead, and that ment that you had to use your head in war. If you didn't, by one means or another you would find yourself dead. As he thought about all this, Thrin leaned back in his chair, resting his head on his cloak which he had draped over his chair. He was mildly comfortable, save for his left arm, which throbbed painfully underneath the layers of bandages. He had some around his chest and abdomen as well where he had been grazed by weapons and hadn't noticed. They weren't as bad, but still required tending lest they become infected. Because of all the bandages, and because it reeked of blood, he no longer was wearing his shirt, revealing his musculature between bandages and on his right arm. He wasn't brawny or overly bulky, but sturdily built and well conditioned for speed. In combat, speed was life. He had on a pair of slacks though, a fresh pair that had been provided by a soldier that had helped Akechi and Armenia move Thrin. The help was more out of courtesy then nessesity, but when he saw the condition of Thrin's body and clothing, he had readily offered anything that he could to help. Thrin silently prayed a thank you for the man, it wasn't much, but the pants were more protection against the weather then bandages, and they were rather comfortable. Thrin drummed his fingers lightly on the table while he waited for the conversation to progress to something more interesting. It wasn't that he didnt care, but he was bored, like a child in church waiting for the bell to toll and for the people to shuffle out of the building, though the preacher continued to drone on. A child often had difficulty keeping still in such situations, and this was the case with Thrin now. His mind was again brought out of the room, he thought about how he came to be in the room. He had originally been looking for the soldier he had borrowed his sword from. The man was dead. He had taken an arrow to the chest, and by the look on the corpses face, one of the mercinaries said, it had been a total surprise. Thrin had returned the sword then by burying it. Again, Thrin found he could only symapthize in thought, but was numb in heart. The two other blades he had kept for himself, seeing as they belonged to dead men. After he had awoken - and gained some of his strength back from a herbal tea one of the doctors had provided - Thrin had inspected and cleaned the weapons. The hunting knife was a brilliant weapon. More finely crafted then he had thought. And the longsword was decent. The blade was sharp and even, well balanced but not perfect, and it was sound. While Thrin admired the work on the knife, the sword was his best freind in the past battle, and he had become accustomed to it. Thinking of the blades though.. He remembered how gruesome the battle had been. He remembered the dance with death, the danger, he reveled in the thought. Combat was exquisite, pain, pleasure, fury, anger, it was a swirling vortex of emotion, of action and reaction. Of death. A cold shiver of dread ran down his spine as he remembered the voice again. The cold deathlike sound. Worse though, was when it had seemed like he was saying the words. An icy chill ripped through him. He heard it again. Ish garrahd neen faalt. Noshukahn derinve harra. Jensu khelhon nefarthu. He blocked the voice out of his mind and immediatly began to think of other things. He attempted to drown the voice with his other thoughts. It seemed to work for the moment and he focused on the task at hand. The icy chill hadn't left, but at least the voice was not bothering him at the moment. |
ooc: alright, characters continue with this meeting, most likely following me and peregrines lead, only because things turned out that way in part one. empires: begin mobalizing your troops, get yourselves introduced by messengers on horseback or ships up the rakatal river or whatever. It won't be too long until the next attack!!
edit:fixed quote tags
-Peregrine
OOC: Seems like I haven't posted in an age. I was on vaction last week in the Smokey Mountains. For an entire week I was locked up in a log cabin, miles (1) away from the nearest sign of civilization (Pigeon Forge, TN) and without any modern conveinences (save cable TV and a can opener).
At least I have received word that MY computer has been fixed, and I should be able to pick it up this afternoon. The man on the phone mentioned something about multiple viruses and craploads of spyware. Go figure.
And without delay, let the meeting resume!!!
IC:
No sooner had Thrin banished the wave of icy dread then another swept over him. But this time it was not the voice that caused it, but the distant sound of horns that pricked his ears to attention. It was almost as if an illusion of the sound had been playing over his ears rather than the real thing, a sound conjured from his imagination and the fear of the inevitable. The second trumpet, closer this time, dispelled the notion with reality as Thrin realized he was not the only one who heard it.
He could catch only a wild glimpse of fear in those still seated as he lept to his feet, spinning on his heel to face a door to the northern ramparts. Wordlessly, he left the others, dashing out the door with less concern for his wounds then he'd had since the last battle. Fear clutched at him with every step as he bounded a flight of stairs three at a time. Before he reached the top he could feel the cold stone shake and the rumble that echoed over the fortress with each foot fall of an advancing army on march.
A stolen glance downward at the courtyard yeilded a view of the massing forces as the poured out of buildings and into the small grassy feild, behind the main gate. The sight was little comfort, the men were still weary, many were still injured. The would be little they could do if the army was as large as it sounded. Every beat of their march drove pain, fear, and adrenaline deeper into Thrin's veins as he struggled to reach the summit of the steps and gain sight of the advancing army.
When he did, the sight drove him to he knees.
(If you would like, jump up there with him, but don't describe the sight of the army, thats my job for now.
)
At least I have received word that MY computer has been fixed, and I should be able to pick it up this afternoon. The man on the phone mentioned something about multiple viruses and craploads of spyware. Go figure.
And without delay, let the meeting resume!!!
IC:
No sooner had Thrin banished the wave of icy dread then another swept over him. But this time it was not the voice that caused it, but the distant sound of horns that pricked his ears to attention. It was almost as if an illusion of the sound had been playing over his ears rather than the real thing, a sound conjured from his imagination and the fear of the inevitable. The second trumpet, closer this time, dispelled the notion with reality as Thrin realized he was not the only one who heard it.
He could catch only a wild glimpse of fear in those still seated as he lept to his feet, spinning on his heel to face a door to the northern ramparts. Wordlessly, he left the others, dashing out the door with less concern for his wounds then he'd had since the last battle. Fear clutched at him with every step as he bounded a flight of stairs three at a time. Before he reached the top he could feel the cold stone shake and the rumble that echoed over the fortress with each foot fall of an advancing army on march.
A stolen glance downward at the courtyard yeilded a view of the massing forces as the poured out of buildings and into the small grassy feild, behind the main gate. The sight was little comfort, the men were still weary, many were still injured. The would be little they could do if the army was as large as it sounded. Every beat of their march drove pain, fear, and adrenaline deeper into Thrin's veins as he struggled to reach the summit of the steps and gain sight of the advancing army.
When he did, the sight drove him to he knees.
(If you would like, jump up there with him, but don't describe the sight of the army, thats my job for now.
)
(OOC: Don't mind if I do jump in with ya. 
)
Akechi remembered back to when he and Alenee first met, and what a finely crafted bow she had with her. He remembered that night around the campfire, when a patrol investigated it and they took cover. Akechi silently hoped she would be okay. He then looked at Aseir expecting a response soon from him.
As quickly as he looked at Aseir, Akechi's eyes were immediately redirected to the sound of a distant blast of a horn. After a second, closer response from the horn, Akechi looked over to see Thrin leap from his seat, seemingly coming alive and forgetting his wounds. Akechi followed suit and chased after him to the outer ramparts.
Akechi ran to help Thrin as he fell to his knees, but once he saw why Thrin dropped he almost did himself. Akechi put his hand in the crook of Thrin's shoulder and helped him up. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up again. Then he drew his bow.
)Akechi remembered back to when he and Alenee first met, and what a finely crafted bow she had with her. He remembered that night around the campfire, when a patrol investigated it and they took cover. Akechi silently hoped she would be okay. He then looked at Aseir expecting a response soon from him.
As quickly as he looked at Aseir, Akechi's eyes were immediately redirected to the sound of a distant blast of a horn. After a second, closer response from the horn, Akechi looked over to see Thrin leap from his seat, seemingly coming alive and forgetting his wounds. Akechi followed suit and chased after him to the outer ramparts.
Akechi ran to help Thrin as he fell to his knees, but once he saw why Thrin dropped he almost did himself. Akechi put his hand in the crook of Thrin's shoulder and helped him up. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up again. Then he drew his bow.
(a few minuites earlier)
"Where is Alenee B'Elen? Has she fallen?"
The question, and the sign that the meeting had finally begun, brought Aseir's attention back to the table. He held his response a moment, considering how to reply without giving away any potentially damaging information. If these men learned of the full extent of Habassan involvement in the Empire.... he shook his head slightly, burrying the thought. They were allies, and his paranoia was most likely unnecessary. Finally, he looked back to Quarian.
"No, not fallen... just needed elsewhere. Alenee's job here is done. She was a scout, and as you can see," he waved a hand in the direction of the two well armed and armored pikemen behind his chair, "the present business is one of armies not scouts. Forgive me if I say no more, but her present activities are not public knowledge."
Any reply that the others might have made was cut off by Thrin's sudden departure. Then Aseir realized the full significance of the trumpets: they definitely weren't from his men, and if the army he had come to aid didn't recognize them.....
The chair had barely hit the floor when Aseir and his guards disappeared out the door, close behind Akechi.
"Where is Alenee B'Elen? Has she fallen?"
The question, and the sign that the meeting had finally begun, brought Aseir's attention back to the table. He held his response a moment, considering how to reply without giving away any potentially damaging information. If these men learned of the full extent of Habassan involvement in the Empire.... he shook his head slightly, burrying the thought. They were allies, and his paranoia was most likely unnecessary. Finally, he looked back to Quarian.
"No, not fallen... just needed elsewhere. Alenee's job here is done. She was a scout, and as you can see," he waved a hand in the direction of the two well armed and armored pikemen behind his chair, "the present business is one of armies not scouts. Forgive me if I say no more, but her present activities are not public knowledge."
Any reply that the others might have made was cut off by Thrin's sudden departure. Then Aseir realized the full significance of the trumpets: they definitely weren't from his men, and if the army he had come to aid didn't recognize them.....
The chair had barely hit the floor when Aseir and his guards disappeared out the door, close behind Akechi.
OOC: At this point, don't kill what I am doing yet MDRud216. You know me, just play it out until things fall into place.
The view from the ramparts was at once horrific and glorious. For beyond the outer city walls was a force of uncomprehensible size. Were it a flock of birds, the sky would have been shrouded for miles, just as they shrouded the northern country as far as the eye could see.
Another resounding trumpet split the silence with a sound of such magnitude that it shook the foundations of the city as they began to pour in. They filled the streets in a matter of moments, flowing into every crevice like a rush of water. They waved blood-stained banners in triumph, and blasted their horns in defiance. Every footfall shook the earth in its passing, ever closer and ever louder. The shear force of numbers far outweighed what forces were left alive within the fortress, the army was as a vast populace of a thriving nation.
But Thrin, supported by Akechi, was not looking at the vastness of the army. And he hadn't fallen at the power of the sound. His eyes remained steadily locked on a small contingent of armored calvary comprised of less then fifty men. Each carried a banner, either green or yellow or orange, and all stained in blood. They were surrounded by a legion of maybe twice their number on foot, each with a pike.
"Akechi, stow away your bow," he whispered dryly, as if too deep in wonder to raise his voice, "give the order to stand down. The men of Ganuros would slaughter us to a man if we were to fight them." He shifted his weight and leaned against the crenilation (sp?) as the men below surrounded the fortress on all sides, keeping a safe distance. Most were unarmed with real weapons, rather, they had farm tools. Pickaxes, hoes, pitchforks, and crude clubs were in abundance, though they were less than underequiped. Their numbers, however, spread beyond sight in all directions.
Those who were armed formed a solid line at the Northern section of the circle that had encased the complex. As if by the gods' command, every horn in the army was blown. What was produced was a deafening sound beyond comprehension, and in the searing clarity of that single, crystal clear note the forward line moved ahead. First the armored calvary, and then their acompaining foot soldiers.
When the noise died out and people began to hear once more, a stocky, armorclad horseman stepped forward from the line of calvary, and with a gesture over his shoulder, he said, "Thrin Arigante, for so long, you have struggled for a revolution in Ganuros. Now, the old goverment is dead at the hands of those who shared your vision. The seeds of your rebellion have blossomed, and now your countrymen have come to embrace their true leader!"
With the words "true leader" the entire countryside burst into a joyous shout that drove Thrin once more to his knees. And in that moment one could see the shimmer of tears on his face.
The view from the ramparts was at once horrific and glorious. For beyond the outer city walls was a force of uncomprehensible size. Were it a flock of birds, the sky would have been shrouded for miles, just as they shrouded the northern country as far as the eye could see.
Another resounding trumpet split the silence with a sound of such magnitude that it shook the foundations of the city as they began to pour in. They filled the streets in a matter of moments, flowing into every crevice like a rush of water. They waved blood-stained banners in triumph, and blasted their horns in defiance. Every footfall shook the earth in its passing, ever closer and ever louder. The shear force of numbers far outweighed what forces were left alive within the fortress, the army was as a vast populace of a thriving nation.
But Thrin, supported by Akechi, was not looking at the vastness of the army. And he hadn't fallen at the power of the sound. His eyes remained steadily locked on a small contingent of armored calvary comprised of less then fifty men. Each carried a banner, either green or yellow or orange, and all stained in blood. They were surrounded by a legion of maybe twice their number on foot, each with a pike.
"Akechi, stow away your bow," he whispered dryly, as if too deep in wonder to raise his voice, "give the order to stand down. The men of Ganuros would slaughter us to a man if we were to fight them." He shifted his weight and leaned against the crenilation (sp?) as the men below surrounded the fortress on all sides, keeping a safe distance. Most were unarmed with real weapons, rather, they had farm tools. Pickaxes, hoes, pitchforks, and crude clubs were in abundance, though they were less than underequiped. Their numbers, however, spread beyond sight in all directions.
Those who were armed formed a solid line at the Northern section of the circle that had encased the complex. As if by the gods' command, every horn in the army was blown. What was produced was a deafening sound beyond comprehension, and in the searing clarity of that single, crystal clear note the forward line moved ahead. First the armored calvary, and then their acompaining foot soldiers.
When the noise died out and people began to hear once more, a stocky, armorclad horseman stepped forward from the line of calvary, and with a gesture over his shoulder, he said, "Thrin Arigante, for so long, you have struggled for a revolution in Ganuros. Now, the old goverment is dead at the hands of those who shared your vision. The seeds of your rebellion have blossomed, and now your countrymen have come to embrace their true leader!"
With the words "true leader" the entire countryside burst into a joyous shout that drove Thrin once more to his knees. And in that moment one could see the shimmer of tears on his face.
'that is understood, Aseir..."was the reply that trailed off with the sounds of an army's horns. Quarian followed Aseir and Akechi through the oaken door and soon what would have been a coucil was empty, its participants running for the battlements.
Quarian burst outside behing aseir as a man spoke words of acknoledgement to Thrin and the army erupted in cheer moments afterward. Quarian aproaches the kneeling thrin from behind and lowers himself to his level beside him, "It seems as though you have come to my country to bestow the same that you had given to your own... I would like to hear your story." Even as he said this he looked in awe out over Galor's surrounding farmland, most of it a charred black before all sight of it had been veiled by the arrival of this army from the (ooc: insert direction, north, east, west all are mountainous, but passible, south is the river valley). Quarian turned to aseir, trying to catch his expression.
Quarian burst outside behing aseir as a man spoke words of acknoledgement to Thrin and the army erupted in cheer moments afterward. Quarian aproaches the kneeling thrin from behind and lowers himself to his level beside him, "It seems as though you have come to my country to bestow the same that you had given to your own... I would like to hear your story." Even as he said this he looked in awe out over Galor's surrounding farmland, most of it a charred black before all sight of it had been veiled by the arrival of this army from the (ooc: insert direction, north, east, west all are mountainous, but passible, south is the river valley). Quarian turned to aseir, trying to catch his expression.
OOC: If it helps, MDRud, they came from the north and pretty much just swarmed around the place, where ever there is a random scrap of land, there is a soldier standing upon it.
IC:
Thrin forced himself to his feet, aided by the short, crenilated (again, sp) wall. His left hand clutched his stomach, over one of the bandages, and he used the other to hold himself upright as he peered over the side of the fortress to the small gathering below. Already, he was trying to remember where he had seen them before exactly, but he couldn't tell who was who underneath the platemail helmets.
"You bring me an army you say?" he called down, "It looks more as though you have brought the entire country to me!"
While the remark was sarcastic, the man that had stepped forward slid off his horse with a smile. "I brought you three."
The voice was unmistakable that time, Thrin knew for sure it had to be his friend Altarus. An old smuggler with a mind for axes. Sure enough he bore a large waraxe over his shoulder, and a shortsword at his hip. If Thrin ever had any friends, this was the one.
"I thought you were dead. Just as the rest of my countrymen. What changed your mind?"
Again, the man below smiled with satisfaction, gesturing once more behind himself with a sweeping arc of his hand. "The coals needed time to warm up the steel. And as for my being dead, we shall speak of that later."
"Fair enough, will those three countries be alright by themselves or are you babysitting again?" Thrin's tone was mocking, the conversation had quickly become a reunion between old friends and some hidden meaning was in his words. He looked over his shoulder at the others, gathered behind him, and let the broad smile he was wearing wilt. His dark mood seemed to return quickly, as usual. "We have business to discuss, right now there is no time for this," he signaled a nearby soldier, which rushed over to him quickly sensing a renewed urgency in his voice, "I want the main gate opened and the ones in charge let in, leave it opened to allow runners from the forces outside. Make the commanders are at ease, but post guards to watch them. Be plain about it, Altarus will know if anyone is sneaking around, so keep everything in the open or they'll think the worst. The army must stay outside the gates, let only the runners pass." He dismissed the soldier then, but caught him just before he was out of earshot, "post an extra round of guards at all entrances to the council chambers and do be secretive with that."
At last he turned to the others, "let us return to our meeting. You have my apologies for the interuption, though I am glad my homeland will be joining our cause.. Do not get comfortable with their numbers, they will not all remain." And with that, he stalked back toward the council chambers, but with slightly more care for his wounds.
IC:
Thrin forced himself to his feet, aided by the short, crenilated (again, sp) wall. His left hand clutched his stomach, over one of the bandages, and he used the other to hold himself upright as he peered over the side of the fortress to the small gathering below. Already, he was trying to remember where he had seen them before exactly, but he couldn't tell who was who underneath the platemail helmets.
"You bring me an army you say?" he called down, "It looks more as though you have brought the entire country to me!"
While the remark was sarcastic, the man that had stepped forward slid off his horse with a smile. "I brought you three."
The voice was unmistakable that time, Thrin knew for sure it had to be his friend Altarus. An old smuggler with a mind for axes. Sure enough he bore a large waraxe over his shoulder, and a shortsword at his hip. If Thrin ever had any friends, this was the one.
"I thought you were dead. Just as the rest of my countrymen. What changed your mind?"
Again, the man below smiled with satisfaction, gesturing once more behind himself with a sweeping arc of his hand. "The coals needed time to warm up the steel. And as for my being dead, we shall speak of that later."
"Fair enough, will those three countries be alright by themselves or are you babysitting again?" Thrin's tone was mocking, the conversation had quickly become a reunion between old friends and some hidden meaning was in his words. He looked over his shoulder at the others, gathered behind him, and let the broad smile he was wearing wilt. His dark mood seemed to return quickly, as usual. "We have business to discuss, right now there is no time for this," he signaled a nearby soldier, which rushed over to him quickly sensing a renewed urgency in his voice, "I want the main gate opened and the ones in charge let in, leave it opened to allow runners from the forces outside. Make the commanders are at ease, but post guards to watch them. Be plain about it, Altarus will know if anyone is sneaking around, so keep everything in the open or they'll think the worst. The army must stay outside the gates, let only the runners pass." He dismissed the soldier then, but caught him just before he was out of earshot, "post an extra round of guards at all entrances to the council chambers and do be secretive with that."
At last he turned to the others, "let us return to our meeting. You have my apologies for the interuption, though I am glad my homeland will be joining our cause.. Do not get comfortable with their numbers, they will not all remain." And with that, he stalked back toward the council chambers, but with slightly more care for his wounds.
Quarian leaves the battlements, taking another, longer route, as he was fairly sure that the important part of the council would be delayed. He walked left, opposite thrin who had disapeared quickly trough a nearby that led off the wall to their right. Quarain followed the ramparts until he had turned the corner onto the western ramparts, farthest from the eastern facing main gate into the castle complex.
looking southeast over the intact section of Golar he saw the Rakatal River gleaming orange with the light of the setting sun. The same light shrowded all the city and the rooftops to the south and east glowed beutifully. He paused a moment in the flooding orange light of the western sun, nestled in the mountains beyond the Rakatal forest which sloped up into the foothills of the range itself and peared out over the city and the blackened feilds beyond its palaside wall. To the south the path of the invaders was clear, he traced it from te breach in the outer wall through the still smoking sections of city and below veiw to the very southern walls of the fortress. To the northeast he could see an outer regiment of the force that had arrived. Quarain took a deep breath.
looking southeast over the intact section of Golar he saw the Rakatal River gleaming orange with the light of the setting sun. The same light shrowded all the city and the rooftops to the south and east glowed beutifully. He paused a moment in the flooding orange light of the western sun, nestled in the mountains beyond the Rakatal forest which sloped up into the foothills of the range itself and peared out over the city and the blackened feilds beyond its palaside wall. To the south the path of the invaders was clear, he traced it from te breach in the outer wall through the still smoking sections of city and below veiw to the very southern walls of the fortress. To the northeast he could see an outer regiment of the force that had arrived. Quarain took a deep breath.
"With duty, honor. With honor, glory."
One of the generals of the Galoric empire draws his sword, and lays it to rest on Armiena's shoulder. She was dressed in full armor, immaculately polished. The plate mail was gleaming like a beacon. The general lifts his sword and lays it to rest on Armiena's right shoulder. It clinks slightly as it meets the pauldron.
"Here do I swear fealty and service to Galor, and to the Emperor of the Realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace and war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my Emperor release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Armiena son of Ravel." The speech was just memorized BS, stuff Armiena had memorized years ago when she had joined the Legions for the first time.
The look of surprise on many of the Galoric troops she had fought alongside with was priceless. Despite her "death", a murderer that was wanted throughout the Galoric Empire had risen from the ashes to fight for the empire she had shamed with her crimes. A few minutes after the battle, she was forcibly brought before one of her former commanders for what she had assumed to be judgement.
Instead, it was to thank her and reinstate her to her post as a Captain in the Legions. The ceremony began as soon as she could get dressed in full armor. Apparently they knew that this was an offer she wouldn't refuse.
"Welcome back, Captain Ravel," the general said, deviating slightly from tradition. He lifted his sword, and offered it to her, letting it hang. Armiena gazed at the symbol of a lion engraved into its hilt for a moment, then rose to take the sword.
"I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking," he paused dramatically, thinking the obvious, "with vengeance." Armiena slid the sword back into her sheathe.
"Your unit is marching with all possible speed from the East. Your immediate orders..." he hands her a scroll, and she leaves the hall to read them.
Defend the Imperial City at all costs..., the scroll reads simply.
OOC: Yes, this is an (altered) copy of the conversation between Peregrin and Denethor. I edited the post to make it a better read. Thanks Tolkien.
One of the generals of the Galoric empire draws his sword, and lays it to rest on Armiena's shoulder. She was dressed in full armor, immaculately polished. The plate mail was gleaming like a beacon. The general lifts his sword and lays it to rest on Armiena's right shoulder. It clinks slightly as it meets the pauldron.
"Here do I swear fealty and service to Galor, and to the Emperor of the Realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace and war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my Emperor release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Armiena son of Ravel." The speech was just memorized BS, stuff Armiena had memorized years ago when she had joined the Legions for the first time.
The look of surprise on many of the Galoric troops she had fought alongside with was priceless. Despite her "death", a murderer that was wanted throughout the Galoric Empire had risen from the ashes to fight for the empire she had shamed with her crimes. A few minutes after the battle, she was forcibly brought before one of her former commanders for what she had assumed to be judgement.
Instead, it was to thank her and reinstate her to her post as a Captain in the Legions. The ceremony began as soon as she could get dressed in full armor. Apparently they knew that this was an offer she wouldn't refuse.
"Welcome back, Captain Ravel," the general said, deviating slightly from tradition. He lifted his sword, and offered it to her, letting it hang. Armiena gazed at the symbol of a lion engraved into its hilt for a moment, then rose to take the sword.
"I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking," he paused dramatically, thinking the obvious, "with vengeance." Armiena slid the sword back into her sheathe.
"Your unit is marching with all possible speed from the East. Your immediate orders..." he hands her a scroll, and she leaves the hall to read them.
Defend the Imperial City at all costs..., the scroll reads simply.
OOC: Yes, this is an (altered) copy of the conversation between Peregrin and Denethor. I edited the post to make it a better read. Thanks Tolkien.
Akechi remained silent throughout the whole affair, from finding out that this mass of people were loyal to Thirin, to returning to the council table. Such a large number of people had come, in battle they would overpower that of Aesir's and Quarain's small armies.
(OOC: Sorry for the small post, I'm kind of at a loss for words.)
(OOC: Sorry for the small post, I'm kind of at a loss for words.)
A disturbing thought crossed Quarian's mind as he peered east down the valley of the Rakatal river until it curved and continued out of sight. From over the hills that hid the rest of its length faint and distant whisps of black hovered in the sky: a waning smoke signal. He turned and hurriedly walked back to the center of the western ramparts, where an arched stone bridge crossed the gap into the keep complex. he entered onto the second floor, just above the great hall and made his way to a tight spiral staircase of stone and went to the third, and made his way across the room to the familiar oaken doors that closed off the council chamber. When he opened them the table was already seated, with a few more additions with the arrival of Thrin's own country.
"Castle Greymoor has lit its beacons, smoke signals rise in the south beyond the hills, something happens on the coasts" he said before seating himself. "captain Aseir of habbasa, tell me your thoughts, we must act very soon. My rebellion did not have time to make a foothold before the invasion, but now we find ourselves responsible for this Empire. It needs a ruler, it needs an army and it needs to be rebuilt even as foreign invaders seek to conqueor it."
"Castle Greymoor has lit its beacons, smoke signals rise in the south beyond the hills, something happens on the coasts" he said before seating himself. "captain Aseir of habbasa, tell me your thoughts, we must act very soon. My rebellion did not have time to make a foothold before the invasion, but now we find ourselves responsible for this Empire. It needs a ruler, it needs an army and it needs to be rebuilt even as foreign invaders seek to conqueor it."
OOC: Just a clarification, as I realize my post was not at all clear, the leaders of my country are not among us. Thrin will meet with them later, but for the moment they are being held away from the council chambers. Hence the "extra ring of guards".
IC:
Thrin could only ponder, as the question was not ment for him. His role at the table was beginning to feel enigmatic. First, he comes from nowhere and performs an act which, for a moment, made everyone doubt his good intention. In the next he is slaying enemy foes by the dozen on the front lines and barking out orders like a general. And then, somehow, he made it here--his reasons yet unkown to those gathered.
It was not coincidence, he was beginning to think, that his life expectancy had been prolonged. He was, after all, dead in spirit, his soul claimed by the Lord of the Underworld until a debt of blood be repaid. The Keeper of Death had reason to keep him in this world.. And soon he may have reason enough to grant him immortality. But who can fathom the the reasoning of such a being?
Thrin was suddenly struck with an idea, a peircing ray of light that penetrated the darkness of his brooding. He hadn't even realized that he was paying attention to what Quarian had been saying. Carfully, he cleared his throat before beginning, "You said this country needed to be rebuilt, did you not? You just witnessed my 'army'. They are nothing more then craftsmen, farmers, merchants. They are not warriors. Perhaps they belive that they can conquer land with thier numbers, but they would be slaughtered to a man by a force of less then half their number of skilled warriors. I do not like knowing that three countries have designated me their leader, place their trust in me to lead them to victory, only to be slaughtered by the thousands in open warfare."
He watched each face carfully as he spoke, pausing then to let the thought seep in before continuing, "I will send some back to their homes, those who I know I will establish as governers to make sure the people are well. The warriors whom you saw earlier, clad in armor, will be sent to raise a proper army. The men will need to be trained, and so the experienced warriors are nessecary." He let out a slow breath, "those that yet remain will be divided into two groups, the crafts men that are to help along your country, and most likely fuel our armies, and a leigion (sp?) of warriors which will be under my command."
He lowered his voice with meanace, not at those around him, but at himself for the prospect of what must be done in order to achive victory, "I expect no more then a thousand men to fight, perhaps half that. But I swear to you upon my own damnation that armies will fall by my hand alone." His aura of deadly intent had returned, and Thrin doubted that it would leave with any ease. His mind was set, and there was no turning back from this point. He had already given it a name, the commitment had been made.
The Leigion of the Damned.
A dead man could not lead the living.
IC:
Thrin could only ponder, as the question was not ment for him. His role at the table was beginning to feel enigmatic. First, he comes from nowhere and performs an act which, for a moment, made everyone doubt his good intention. In the next he is slaying enemy foes by the dozen on the front lines and barking out orders like a general. And then, somehow, he made it here--his reasons yet unkown to those gathered.
It was not coincidence, he was beginning to think, that his life expectancy had been prolonged. He was, after all, dead in spirit, his soul claimed by the Lord of the Underworld until a debt of blood be repaid. The Keeper of Death had reason to keep him in this world.. And soon he may have reason enough to grant him immortality. But who can fathom the the reasoning of such a being?
Thrin was suddenly struck with an idea, a peircing ray of light that penetrated the darkness of his brooding. He hadn't even realized that he was paying attention to what Quarian had been saying. Carfully, he cleared his throat before beginning, "You said this country needed to be rebuilt, did you not? You just witnessed my 'army'. They are nothing more then craftsmen, farmers, merchants. They are not warriors. Perhaps they belive that they can conquer land with thier numbers, but they would be slaughtered to a man by a force of less then half their number of skilled warriors. I do not like knowing that three countries have designated me their leader, place their trust in me to lead them to victory, only to be slaughtered by the thousands in open warfare."
He watched each face carfully as he spoke, pausing then to let the thought seep in before continuing, "I will send some back to their homes, those who I know I will establish as governers to make sure the people are well. The warriors whom you saw earlier, clad in armor, will be sent to raise a proper army. The men will need to be trained, and so the experienced warriors are nessecary." He let out a slow breath, "those that yet remain will be divided into two groups, the crafts men that are to help along your country, and most likely fuel our armies, and a leigion (sp?) of warriors which will be under my command."
He lowered his voice with meanace, not at those around him, but at himself for the prospect of what must be done in order to achive victory, "I expect no more then a thousand men to fight, perhaps half that. But I swear to you upon my own damnation that armies will fall by my hand alone." His aura of deadly intent had returned, and Thrin doubted that it would leave with any ease. His mind was set, and there was no turning back from this point. He had already given it a name, the commitment had been made.
The Leigion of the Damned.
A dead man could not lead the living.
Quarian, weary of the weaks events spoke in a way that he would later regret to Thrin: " I am afraid we will not know the extent of the damage to this country until we receive word from the rivers mouth, hold your dreams until then, lest you be stuck with a commitment you cannot handle." Quarian returned his gaze to Aseir.
ooc: MDRud216 calls out: PEREGRINE ! ? Aseir needs some... er controlling
ooc: MDRud216 calls out: PEREGRINE ! ? Aseir needs some... er controlling
Suprised that Quarian wanted advice on politics from a mere military officer like himself, Aseir was a bit slow to answer. Battles were his area of expertise; he prefered to leave the rebuilding to dreamers like the others. Besides, they had to know his reasons for being there... or did they?
"A ruler?" he finally asked. "Surely your Empire would never accept a foreign overlord such as myself. No... they would never throw off one outsider, just to replace him with another. And the chaos that would result... would be... against the best interests of both Habassa and the Empire. The selection of the new Emperor will remain an internal matter."
A slight smile replaced the Aseir's serious expression as he considered his next words. "As for Greymoor..... I think I can help you with that. Heavy reinforcements are on their way and will arrive here within three days. Ten thousand men, archers and pikemen. And more importantly, they bring full artillery support." He waited a moment for the full meaning of his words to make its mark on the others at the table. They had seen the devastating effect of Aseir's first wave, and one by one they understood what the much larger force would mean.
But Aseir was not finished. "My third group advances by sea. Another four thousand men travel under a full fleet escort. They will enter the Rakatal river by the end of the week."
"Your enemies will be caught between the two and crushed. Their choices are now retreat or death." There was no trace of arrogance or bragging in his voice... just the deadly seriousness of someone who truly understood the power he commanded.
"A ruler?" he finally asked. "Surely your Empire would never accept a foreign overlord such as myself. No... they would never throw off one outsider, just to replace him with another. And the chaos that would result... would be... against the best interests of both Habassa and the Empire. The selection of the new Emperor will remain an internal matter."
A slight smile replaced the Aseir's serious expression as he considered his next words. "As for Greymoor..... I think I can help you with that. Heavy reinforcements are on their way and will arrive here within three days. Ten thousand men, archers and pikemen. And more importantly, they bring full artillery support." He waited a moment for the full meaning of his words to make its mark on the others at the table. They had seen the devastating effect of Aseir's first wave, and one by one they understood what the much larger force would mean.
But Aseir was not finished. "My third group advances by sea. Another four thousand men travel under a full fleet escort. They will enter the Rakatal river by the end of the week."
"Your enemies will be caught between the two and crushed. Their choices are now retreat or death." There was no trace of arrogance or bragging in his voice... just the deadly seriousness of someone who truly understood the power he commanded.
"I have trouble understanding the motives of your country Aseir, Whether or not there are other ones that i do not understand or if your support for my country is out of the goodness of your leaders heart." Quarain looked around the table to see if any had an objection.
"I truely thank you for your countries help, fore my resistance was doomed from the start, a troubled Empire and a rebellion of j ust more than a hundred men would both have been wiped out by these new invaders first wave if it had not been for you. But the thought 'why' has loomed in the back of my mind for quite some time now." Quarian leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, shifting his gaze from Aseir at the opposite end to everyone seated at the table until his gaze rested on Thrin.
"As for a ruler, It has become clear that in Golar this council is the prime governmental force, as for the rest of the Empire I am sure that the governments of the cities under this one are intact, things will most certainly change when we receive word from Castle GreyMoor."
"I truely thank you for your countries help, fore my resistance was doomed from the start, a troubled Empire and a rebellion of j ust more than a hundred men would both have been wiped out by these new invaders first wave if it had not been for you. But the thought 'why' has loomed in the back of my mind for quite some time now." Quarian leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, shifting his gaze from Aseir at the opposite end to everyone seated at the table until his gaze rested on Thrin.
"As for a ruler, It has become clear that in Golar this council is the prime governmental force, as for the rest of the Empire I am sure that the governments of the cities under this one are intact, things will most certainly change when we receive word from Castle GreyMoor."
If he thinks these are my "dreams", I'd hate to see his nightmares, Thrin thought to himself as a slight smirk crossed his face. He treid to turn his mind back to the conversation as Quarian (sp?) turned to look at him once more. He stared back solemnly, not wanting to appear as though he had no interest. His brooding moods were hard to break out of when he wasn't being directly spoken to during a conversation.
Methodically, he leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table, and claspin his hands infront of him. "In a time of war, the generals of armies often become rulers where there is none. If you all are commanding armies, then you will become the rulers eventually. People look up to those who prove themselves with leadership and ability, and the exalt them... That said you are right that this council is the governing body here, and at the end of this war, it will most likely be what rules over the old kingdom of Galor." The smirk had vanished as quickly as it came as he spoke the words, almost interuptig. While it was, for the most part, stating the obvious, Thrin had thought it lead up well to the next part of his speech.
"That, my good Quarian, means that YOU are one of the leaders now, plan it that way. If we are to be leading our forces into battle, we must acknowledge that which will be the end result." He turned to Aseir next, "in the same way, this country will exalt you. Know that with the capture of the capital, anarchy will result. This county is already in a state of chaos.. And if you are not the only one ruling, then it matters little where you birth from."
He then sat back in his seat and gestured to the whole group, "You will be the leaders here, I already have three countries that call me as their leader... But I have to live before I can lead the living.. And for that I must uphold my end of the oath..." He let his voice trail away, giving a solid, determined look to Quarian to bar a likely reprimand. "The most important thing at the moment is to, as was said, determine the damage already caused.. B-" Thrin was about to say something else, but thought better of it and relaxed a little more in his chair.
Methodically, he leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table, and claspin his hands infront of him. "In a time of war, the generals of armies often become rulers where there is none. If you all are commanding armies, then you will become the rulers eventually. People look up to those who prove themselves with leadership and ability, and the exalt them... That said you are right that this council is the governing body here, and at the end of this war, it will most likely be what rules over the old kingdom of Galor." The smirk had vanished as quickly as it came as he spoke the words, almost interuptig. While it was, for the most part, stating the obvious, Thrin had thought it lead up well to the next part of his speech.
"That, my good Quarian, means that YOU are one of the leaders now, plan it that way. If we are to be leading our forces into battle, we must acknowledge that which will be the end result." He turned to Aseir next, "in the same way, this country will exalt you. Know that with the capture of the capital, anarchy will result. This county is already in a state of chaos.. And if you are not the only one ruling, then it matters little where you birth from."
He then sat back in his seat and gestured to the whole group, "You will be the leaders here, I already have three countries that call me as their leader... But I have to live before I can lead the living.. And for that I must uphold my end of the oath..." He let his voice trail away, giving a solid, determined look to Quarian to bar a likely reprimand. "The most important thing at the moment is to, as was said, determine the damage already caused.. B-" Thrin was about to say something else, but thought better of it and relaxed a little more in his chair.
"I must say that I agree with you Thrin, but we do not know the damage inflicted on other cities, many had an imperial garrison but not all of the governors of them were loyal to Darel... Whether or not that is the case in a city it would seem to them that they hold more of a place on the emperors throne than any of us, just because we have all found our way into this chamber... In fact It isn't clear yet whether the distant settlements of this country even realize that the Emperor is dead. All things will be understood in time I guess..." He regretted ending his speach with 'I guess', he had felt empowered when he spoke as always but the last line had left a bittersweet aura in the room.
"Time," Thrin put a suble emphasis on the word, "will tell. And right now, I have several captains from my own country counting the time that I take in this room. And I am counting myself." He paused a minute as, once again, all eyes turned to him, "I am terribly sorry, but if this meeting does not finnish itself quickly, I am afraid I must take my leave. There are certain matters I must resolve before sundown. One of which is getting my people on their way back to their own land before they are slaughtered out in the fields. I understand what is at stake, but time is working against me it seems..." He let his words drift off, knowing that it seemed ignorant of him to want to attend his own matters before seeing to the troubles of a nation.
"I am weary from battle myself," says quarian, trying to bring about a softer mood to the room. "This meeting need not go on any longer until we receive word from the coast, until then everything is said that needs to be. Agreed?" he looks around the room, particularily at Aseir, and stood leaving the room, and ending the meeting as far as he was concerned.
He found an empty room with clean sheats and settled down for the night, in the morning he would wonder the city, inspecting the damage. His thoughts were interupted by a sharp and agonizing pain in his shoulder, beneath his bandages his wound was in pain, possibly infected but there was nothing he could do about it either way, so he let himself drift into unconciousness... sleeping through the night
He found an empty room with clean sheats and settled down for the night, in the morning he would wonder the city, inspecting the damage. His thoughts were interupted by a sharp and agonizing pain in his shoulder, beneath his bandages his wound was in pain, possibly infected but there was nothing he could do about it either way, so he let himself drift into unconciousness... sleeping through the night
Akechi left the meeting behing Quarain, but split off from him as he headed to his quarters. He stayed up late that night on the battlements, surveying the damage and thinking to himself. First of all, in the morning he needed to go to the garrison of the castle and look for more equipment, as he had only two arrows left. Even his dirk, for as thick and angular as it was, was chipped in many places. Too much force from a blow would split the blade on impact in it's current state. He decided he would get himself some light armor if he could find it as well.
Now that they seemed free from Darel, and with a moment of peace, he chose right then to become an agent for the empire of Galor just as his father was. In the wake of new leadership, he would find a group of hunters or soldiers similar to him and go on missions at the empire's bidding. After this thought, Akechi came out of his daze and picked up his bow from the rampart's side.
Now inside the castle he found his quarters. He saw Aesir, and it looked like he was headed to the same area. With a nod from Aesir, Akechi stepped in pace with him. There was a moment of silence as they walked to their quarters for the night.
Now that they seemed free from Darel, and with a moment of peace, he chose right then to become an agent for the empire of Galor just as his father was. In the wake of new leadership, he would find a group of hunters or soldiers similar to him and go on missions at the empire's bidding. After this thought, Akechi came out of his daze and picked up his bow from the rampart's side.
Now inside the castle he found his quarters. He saw Aesir, and it looked like he was headed to the same area. With a nod from Aesir, Akechi stepped in pace with him. There was a moment of silence as they walked to their quarters for the night.
Lost in his own thoughts, Aseir didn't notice the identity of the man walking behind him. Too many problems and too little time he thought with annoyance, dismissing the fragments of plans that had been occupying his thoughts. What he needed was some peace and quiet.
As he walked along the outer wall towards his temporary quarters, he paused midstep and turned to look out into the night. For a few minuites, he stared off into the darkness in the south. Too much hidden there....
Finally, he noticed the man standing silently near him. Pulling his cloak around him tighter against the now-apparent chill of the night, Aseir walked over to join him. "Something on your mind?" he asked, hoping for the words of wisdom that would resolve all his problems.
As he walked along the outer wall towards his temporary quarters, he paused midstep and turned to look out into the night. For a few minuites, he stared off into the darkness in the south. Too much hidden there....
Finally, he noticed the man standing silently near him. Pulling his cloak around him tighter against the now-apparent chill of the night, Aseir walked over to join him. "Something on your mind?" he asked, hoping for the words of wisdom that would resolve all his problems.
"Aesir, let me first tell you how much I admire Alenee as a soldier and her prowess in archery. I've noticed you have the same air of confidence and power in your own areas of expertise as well. Indeed, your army is perhaps the most formidable force we know. I let you know now that I represent the empire of Golar; this is where my alliance lies to the end of time. I know you feel the same way of Habassa. This is why I ask, your true intentions, is Habassa truly an ally of Golar or will we find ourselves in a war soon?" Akechi asked Aesir this with utmost sincerity.
OOC: Is it too soon for alliances? Will Habassa attack Golar? FIND OUT on the next episode of A New Power!!!
OOC: Is it too soon for alliances? Will Habassa attack Golar? FIND OUT on the next episode of A New Power!!!
A laugh managed to slip past Aseir's control before he could reply. "War? That's the last thing I want! I came here to stop one war, not to replace it with another. My full motivations must remain hidden from the world, but I assure you, conquest of Golar is not among them."
ooc: you can continue your conversation if you want to... just say the previous night... you know whatto do but it looks finished enough to me.
morning had arrived, and with it a rider from the south, eager to deliver his message to Golar. His horse found its way over the rubble at a breach in the wall, he galloped through the streets. passing many people gathering their charred belongings or just wandering in awe of the aftermath.
"let me through! let me through!" he hollered up onto the inner battlements, a random warrior found the strength to release the counter weight and the gate opened, allowing the messenger to pass through.
He dismounted the horse and walked into the hall, a table with one broken leg was in the center of the room, and random chairs scattered about the room. Tucked away under a pile of rubble darels corpse was begining to stink. He scaled a flight of stairs and found his way to the halls upper level, various halls led off to the emperors quarters and other rooms...
from one of them Quarian apeared and anounced himself: "You there, who are you looking for? the emperor is dead, and most of his henchmen dead."
the messenger turned, "Who is in charge here?" he asked.
"no one person, but i will attend to whatever buisness you have in Golar."
"I am a messenger from GreyMoor, did you not see our signal yesterday evening?"
Quarian's attentiveness raised at the mention of Castle greymoor, "Yes, I did see the smoke rising to the south, I hoped a messenger would follow... what have you come to tell us?"
"Castle GreyMoor was beseiged by a massive force three nights ago, it seemed quite hopeless until a resistance arrived, led by a man named aseir I beleive, also were the armies of other cities throughout the Empire. We fended them off but they joined with a second force and continued up the river valley, It looks like the attack here was more devestating."
"It was swift and powerful, If not for Aseir we would have fallen as well. In the excitment last night with the arrival of Thrin's army I guess he forgot to mention what he knew?" he phrased it as a question.
"There was mass confusion during the battle, i am sure there is a lot on his mind-" he looked toward another door, "ahh, master Aseir, we were just speaking of you," the messenger said.
morning had arrived, and with it a rider from the south, eager to deliver his message to Golar. His horse found its way over the rubble at a breach in the wall, he galloped through the streets. passing many people gathering their charred belongings or just wandering in awe of the aftermath.
"let me through! let me through!" he hollered up onto the inner battlements, a random warrior found the strength to release the counter weight and the gate opened, allowing the messenger to pass through.
He dismounted the horse and walked into the hall, a table with one broken leg was in the center of the room, and random chairs scattered about the room. Tucked away under a pile of rubble darels corpse was begining to stink. He scaled a flight of stairs and found his way to the halls upper level, various halls led off to the emperors quarters and other rooms...
from one of them Quarian apeared and anounced himself: "You there, who are you looking for? the emperor is dead, and most of his henchmen dead."
the messenger turned, "Who is in charge here?" he asked.
"no one person, but i will attend to whatever buisness you have in Golar."
"I am a messenger from GreyMoor, did you not see our signal yesterday evening?"
Quarian's attentiveness raised at the mention of Castle greymoor, "Yes, I did see the smoke rising to the south, I hoped a messenger would follow... what have you come to tell us?"
"Castle GreyMoor was beseiged by a massive force three nights ago, it seemed quite hopeless until a resistance arrived, led by a man named aseir I beleive, also were the armies of other cities throughout the Empire. We fended them off but they joined with a second force and continued up the river valley, It looks like the attack here was more devestating."
"It was swift and powerful, If not for Aseir we would have fallen as well. In the excitment last night with the arrival of Thrin's army I guess he forgot to mention what he knew?" he phrased it as a question.
"There was mass confusion during the battle, i am sure there is a lot on his mind-" he looked toward another door, "ahh, master Aseir, we were just speaking of you," the messenger said.
OOC: Leave it to a hurricane to kill the power when things start to heat up again...
IC: While you may have only made note of it at the time, not wanting to disturb personal business, the sounds of shouting and the clashing of steel arose to acompany the already noisy army surroundings. Outside, on the ramparts and all around the courtyard, people were watching a small, makshift arena and the two combatants within. As they went at each other, the cheering and wild shouting grew louder..
The first contestant you did not recognize, being covered from head to toe in a suit of platemail and bearing a mace and shield. He held the colors of Ganuros. The other you instantly recognized as Thrin, an expression of blind fury apparent on his face. He wore no armor, and neither had he a shield. Only a simple sword in his right hand and his long hunting knife in his other. Yet the way he fought clearly showed that he would be no easy target.
The first man swung the mace with an audible grunt, aiming for Thrin's head. Thrin moved with lightning agility, ducking below the attack as though his opponent were a statue; and when the arc of the weapon was completed, he sprung upon his opponent and knocked him off balance. While the heavily armed man was still recovering, Thrin dropped low again, this time pulling the mans legs out from under him and forcing him on his back.
Both fighters scrambled to opposite sides of the arena then, neither seriously injured, yet. This time, though, the armor-clad man decided it would be best to drop his shield and go for a two-handed battle axe, which was readily supplied by his supporters behind him. Swinging the great weapon wildly about his head, the man charged at Thrin, attempting to cleave him in two. When his stroke came down he was met only with air, and a sudden heel in the back. The man was shoved, once again, to the ground as Thrin stood silently behind him.
Thrin's face was of cold stone as his attacker came a third time, bringing the his weapon up low and cursing in some foreign language. This time, Thrin only let the weapon come, before swiftly deflecting it at the last moment with both his knife and his sword. The axe slipped past him harmlessly as Thrin brought up his hunting knife and severed the wooden handle of the axe. The blade fell to the ground heavily, useless without the handle, which the man was now attempting to use like a club.
Each blow was blocked in the manner of a professional assassin, swift and resolute but with no more emotion then the dust at his feet. Thrin never hesitated or wasted a move, while his opponent moved about in a confusing rage. Thrin saw each attack coming while his opponent saw nothing. And yet Thrin hadn't played anything more then defensive up to this point, always letting his attacker come to him. Finnaly, his face seemed to become darker then before, his mood somehow blighted further by something new.
He began to attack. Each swing finding its mark surely and smoothly, probing gaps in the armor. The man wearing the armor again found his shield, and began a vain attempt to defend himself from the sudden, merciless onslaught. In his other fist he clenched white-knuckled to the wooden shaft of the axe, now only a stub. Thrin's blades came down in swift arcs, pounding relentlessly on the man's armor, each blow creating both a dent and a ominous clang of metal.
Then his pattern of attack suddenly changed once more, instead of attacking, Thrin suddenly drew back, dropping his knife into its sheath and clutching at his side and injured shoulder, which had once again started to bleed profusly. He stood there, injured, while his opponent regained his senses and gathered his wits. Someone gave the armored man a broadsword, while others cheered him on. Resolutly, the man walked forward, assured now a victory against Thrin, and he began to speak, though from your vantage point you couldn't hear the words.
That was his last, fatal mistake. With a battle cry, "to the hells with you!" the man charged at Thrin, the broadsword raised high and ready for the kill. An instant later, a flash of blades had you blinded and then the dust cleared.. Silence that could have been cut with a knife was held over the entire castle as every eye with an intrest looked on at the impossible. The man was impaled through the neck with Thrin's blade, his own sword lying on the ground in silent tribute to his death. The blade was positioned just below the helm where it met evenly with the breastplate, but in his false sense of victory, Thrin's weapon had found the gap.
Wordlessly, Thrin wrenched the blade from the man's neck and sheathed it, while a medic jumped in the circle to inspect both Thrin and the other man. Thrin's face was still cold stone, the face of an emotionless killer. He turned to the crowd suddely, ignoring the medic that was trying to get to him. They gasped and jumped back a step, not wanting to face his fury.
"Altarus is dead. A man I once knew as a friend now finds eternal rest with the lord of death. His blood is on my hands. If you, for anyone instant, think that I enjoy this moment, you are mistaken!" He paused, letting his speech soak through, "I resent this moment more then any I have ever had!... But letting his betrayal lie among my people is far worse then my loss, and I would have it no other way. Soon, I will make a call to my people, asking them to accept death as their savior in this war.. For I am a dead man, and so I cannot lead the living!! Two hundred souls I know owe to the keeper of death in exchange for my one! So it shall be with the army that follows me to battle! They shall know no fear of death, no want of mortal pleasures, or need of rest or sustainance! This is not insanity, I tell you, for they shall be the best at giving the one thing they have, death!"
Silence alone followed his words, as they were less a rally to victory, and more a call to damnation. Many thought he was crazy, and to be honest, he doubted it was false. But if crazy is what it takes, then crazy is what it shall be.. With his last words spoken, he walked away from the arena and towards the quarters where the commanders of his "armies" had been taken the night before.
OOC: Yes, I know.. It is kind of an interuption.. But its big and purposeful!
IC: While you may have only made note of it at the time, not wanting to disturb personal business, the sounds of shouting and the clashing of steel arose to acompany the already noisy army surroundings. Outside, on the ramparts and all around the courtyard, people were watching a small, makshift arena and the two combatants within. As they went at each other, the cheering and wild shouting grew louder..
The first contestant you did not recognize, being covered from head to toe in a suit of platemail and bearing a mace and shield. He held the colors of Ganuros. The other you instantly recognized as Thrin, an expression of blind fury apparent on his face. He wore no armor, and neither had he a shield. Only a simple sword in his right hand and his long hunting knife in his other. Yet the way he fought clearly showed that he would be no easy target.
The first man swung the mace with an audible grunt, aiming for Thrin's head. Thrin moved with lightning agility, ducking below the attack as though his opponent were a statue; and when the arc of the weapon was completed, he sprung upon his opponent and knocked him off balance. While the heavily armed man was still recovering, Thrin dropped low again, this time pulling the mans legs out from under him and forcing him on his back.
Both fighters scrambled to opposite sides of the arena then, neither seriously injured, yet. This time, though, the armor-clad man decided it would be best to drop his shield and go for a two-handed battle axe, which was readily supplied by his supporters behind him. Swinging the great weapon wildly about his head, the man charged at Thrin, attempting to cleave him in two. When his stroke came down he was met only with air, and a sudden heel in the back. The man was shoved, once again, to the ground as Thrin stood silently behind him.
Thrin's face was of cold stone as his attacker came a third time, bringing the his weapon up low and cursing in some foreign language. This time, Thrin only let the weapon come, before swiftly deflecting it at the last moment with both his knife and his sword. The axe slipped past him harmlessly as Thrin brought up his hunting knife and severed the wooden handle of the axe. The blade fell to the ground heavily, useless without the handle, which the man was now attempting to use like a club.
Each blow was blocked in the manner of a professional assassin, swift and resolute but with no more emotion then the dust at his feet. Thrin never hesitated or wasted a move, while his opponent moved about in a confusing rage. Thrin saw each attack coming while his opponent saw nothing. And yet Thrin hadn't played anything more then defensive up to this point, always letting his attacker come to him. Finnaly, his face seemed to become darker then before, his mood somehow blighted further by something new.
He began to attack. Each swing finding its mark surely and smoothly, probing gaps in the armor. The man wearing the armor again found his shield, and began a vain attempt to defend himself from the sudden, merciless onslaught. In his other fist he clenched white-knuckled to the wooden shaft of the axe, now only a stub. Thrin's blades came down in swift arcs, pounding relentlessly on the man's armor, each blow creating both a dent and a ominous clang of metal.
Then his pattern of attack suddenly changed once more, instead of attacking, Thrin suddenly drew back, dropping his knife into its sheath and clutching at his side and injured shoulder, which had once again started to bleed profusly. He stood there, injured, while his opponent regained his senses and gathered his wits. Someone gave the armored man a broadsword, while others cheered him on. Resolutly, the man walked forward, assured now a victory against Thrin, and he began to speak, though from your vantage point you couldn't hear the words.
That was his last, fatal mistake. With a battle cry, "to the hells with you!" the man charged at Thrin, the broadsword raised high and ready for the kill. An instant later, a flash of blades had you blinded and then the dust cleared.. Silence that could have been cut with a knife was held over the entire castle as every eye with an intrest looked on at the impossible. The man was impaled through the neck with Thrin's blade, his own sword lying on the ground in silent tribute to his death. The blade was positioned just below the helm where it met evenly with the breastplate, but in his false sense of victory, Thrin's weapon had found the gap.
Wordlessly, Thrin wrenched the blade from the man's neck and sheathed it, while a medic jumped in the circle to inspect both Thrin and the other man. Thrin's face was still cold stone, the face of an emotionless killer. He turned to the crowd suddely, ignoring the medic that was trying to get to him. They gasped and jumped back a step, not wanting to face his fury.
"Altarus is dead. A man I once knew as a friend now finds eternal rest with the lord of death. His blood is on my hands. If you, for anyone instant, think that I enjoy this moment, you are mistaken!" He paused, letting his speech soak through, "I resent this moment more then any I have ever had!... But letting his betrayal lie among my people is far worse then my loss, and I would have it no other way. Soon, I will make a call to my people, asking them to accept death as their savior in this war.. For I am a dead man, and so I cannot lead the living!! Two hundred souls I know owe to the keeper of death in exchange for my one! So it shall be with the army that follows me to battle! They shall know no fear of death, no want of mortal pleasures, or need of rest or sustainance! This is not insanity, I tell you, for they shall be the best at giving the one thing they have, death!"
Silence alone followed his words, as they were less a rally to victory, and more a call to damnation. Many thought he was crazy, and to be honest, he doubted it was false. But if crazy is what it takes, then crazy is what it shall be.. With his last words spoken, he walked away from the arena and towards the quarters where the commanders of his "armies" had been taken the night before.
OOC: Yes, I know.. It is kind of an interuption.. But its big and purposeful!
News of the new arrival did not take long to reach Aseir's ears. His men on the walls had spotted the rider, and had quietly sent word to Aseir before the man had even entered the gate. But even so, it took him time to reach the main hall from his quarters on the other side of the castle. He arrived just in time to catch the last of the man's words, words that couldn't possibly be right.
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded of the new arrival. "I am Aseir, and as you can see, I am not defending your home. My forces will not reach GreyMoor for at least another week." Suddenly something about the man's words sent an icy dagger of fear through his heart, and his hand unconsciously dropped to the katana on his belt. The man had addressed him by name... a name he couldn't possibly know. A name nobody that far south could know, not unless they were looking far too closely into Habassan affairs.....
Aseir turned to face the messenger, and took a step back to give himself a better position if things went as badly as he feared. When he finally spoke, the threat in his tone was clear. "I find it quite odd that you can recognize on sight a man you have never seen, and with a name you have never heard. How did you know who I am?" The two guards flanking Aseir stepped into position behind and beside him, hands tight on their pikes. "Speak carefully, spy."
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded of the new arrival. "I am Aseir, and as you can see, I am not defending your home. My forces will not reach GreyMoor for at least another week." Suddenly something about the man's words sent an icy dagger of fear through his heart, and his hand unconsciously dropped to the katana on his belt. The man had addressed him by name... a name he couldn't possibly know. A name nobody that far south could know, not unless they were looking far too closely into Habassan affairs.....
Aseir turned to face the messenger, and took a step back to give himself a better position if things went as badly as he feared. When he finally spoke, the threat in his tone was clear. "I find it quite odd that you can recognize on sight a man you have never seen, and with a name you have never heard. How did you know who I am?" The two guards flanking Aseir stepped into position behind and beside him, hands tight on their pikes. "Speak carefully, spy."
You now look upon a cowering child, so different from the semi- confident 18 year old who had sat their before. "I.. I don't know what you are talking about... Even a day after the battle of Galor the swiftest riders who had escaped down the valley were reaching greymoor, they told of you, a great general who intervined in the last momonets of the battle and put an iron fist between the invaders and the capital city!" he shreiks. "most left before the battle was one, and those that arrived first assumed and told us that the capital had fallen. their were small occupations in the cities to the east and they were freed by an army rallied from the cities, I could only assume that they were led by the great general i had heard of! please, it was a mistake!"
Quarian spoke after a moment of silence, "Aseir, did you not have a small force in the east? maybe the rumors were started by something smaller such as that, although I would certainly beleive that they could hyave been sparked with the absence of Habbassa in the east."
Quarian spoke after a moment of silence, "Aseir, did you not have a small force in the east? maybe the rumors were started by something smaller such as that, although I would certainly beleive that they could hyave been sparked with the absence of Habbassa in the east."
"I am quite sure there were no forces in the east. Our intervention here strained our foriegn resources nearly to the breaking point. Our strength is, as it always has been, far to the north, defending our homelands." Aseir shook his head, his regret obvious. "No, those reports can not be of my men. Not even I can be everywhere at once." The last words betrayed far more sadness than a mere report, but an instant later, it was hidden once more.
Quarian's question answered, Aseir turned his attention to the messenger. "I still don't trust you. No simple messenger could identify a man he's never seen before at first sight. A lucky guess maybe, but I still don't like it." He paused for a moment, then removed his hand from his sword. "Whatever you are, you don't have the courage of an assassin. Your life is safe, so long as I see no sign of betrayal." Hearing his words, his guards stepped back and returned to their postions behind him.
Paying no more attention to the messenger, Aseir looked back over to Quarian. "Tell the others we will meet and plan tonight once I consult with my scouts." With that, he walked off in the direction of his quarters.
Quarian's question answered, Aseir turned his attention to the messenger. "I still don't trust you. No simple messenger could identify a man he's never seen before at first sight. A lucky guess maybe, but I still don't like it." He paused for a moment, then removed his hand from his sword. "Whatever you are, you don't have the courage of an assassin. Your life is safe, so long as I see no sign of betrayal." Hearing his words, his guards stepped back and returned to their postions behind him.
Paying no more attention to the messenger, Aseir looked back over to Quarian. "Tell the others we will meet and plan tonight once I consult with my scouts." With that, he walked off in the direction of his quarters.
The sun had once again sunk behind the western mountains, casting long and foreboding shadows across the valley of galor; only slivers of the golden orange light remained high up in the foothills of the east.
The capital itself was in a hurried state of organized chaos. Although some secluded corners of town still smouldered and bodies could be found in the streets to the south, near the largest breech the many new arrivals, including the soldiers of habbasa and the masses who hailed from thrin's country were beginning to settle in so to speak. Many did not know what would happen next, and even more would not be in control of it when it did happen. The people of the city felt helpless, they watched their city be invaded from early glimpses of recon riders to the great legion that legion that stormed through their streets. History seemed to be repeating itself for those who had also watched helplessly when their Emperor was overthrown by invaders years ago.
"Good Evening gentlemen," Quarian said before clearing his throat.
The capital itself was in a hurried state of organized chaos. Although some secluded corners of town still smouldered and bodies could be found in the streets to the south, near the largest breech the many new arrivals, including the soldiers of habbasa and the masses who hailed from thrin's country were beginning to settle in so to speak. Many did not know what would happen next, and even more would not be in control of it when it did happen. The people of the city felt helpless, they watched their city be invaded from early glimpses of recon riders to the great legion that legion that stormed through their streets. History seemed to be repeating itself for those who had also watched helplessly when their Emperor was overthrown by invaders years ago.
"Good Evening gentlemen," Quarian said before clearing his throat.
"I'll make this short and simple."
Aseir tossed a map onto the center of the table. Its contents were obvious, the Empire and bordering nations. Less obvious was the writing: notes and diagrams in a language nobody at the table could recognize.
"As you all know, the Empire we knew is dead. With the capital in our hands, its complete destruction is just a matter of time. The only question is who will get its remains."
He tapped the capital city with the point of a dagger.
"We control the capital, and will do so for the immediate future. With the concentration of forces we have here, any counter-attack on us would be suicide. Unfortunately, we can not say the same elsewhere. While the capital assault has tied up all my men, other factions have been moving to take their own territory."
The dagger point shifted to Greymoor.
"We know Greymoor has fallen, to an unknown force. Most likely, a rival faction used our attack for cover, to take the city while our attention was elsewhere. And according to our scouts, Greymoor was not alone."
Aseir tapped several other cities with the dagger.
"We have either lost contact with, or confirmed the fall of these cities. Based on the fragments of reports we have, we're most likely looking at four other factions. At minimum."
Aseir paused, looking around the table at the other commanders.
"The problem is, Habassa does not have the numbers to challenge all of them at once. I am confident in my ability to take any target you want taken, but holding it is a greater problem. Habassa can not win this war for you. You must decide our next move, as your forces will bear its burden."
Finished for now, Aseir leaned back in his chair, waiting for the next commander to speak.
Aseir tossed a map onto the center of the table. Its contents were obvious, the Empire and bordering nations. Less obvious was the writing: notes and diagrams in a language nobody at the table could recognize.
"As you all know, the Empire we knew is dead. With the capital in our hands, its complete destruction is just a matter of time. The only question is who will get its remains."
He tapped the capital city with the point of a dagger.
"We control the capital, and will do so for the immediate future. With the concentration of forces we have here, any counter-attack on us would be suicide. Unfortunately, we can not say the same elsewhere. While the capital assault has tied up all my men, other factions have been moving to take their own territory."
The dagger point shifted to Greymoor.
"We know Greymoor has fallen, to an unknown force. Most likely, a rival faction used our attack for cover, to take the city while our attention was elsewhere. And according to our scouts, Greymoor was not alone."
Aseir tapped several other cities with the dagger.
"We have either lost contact with, or confirmed the fall of these cities. Based on the fragments of reports we have, we're most likely looking at four other factions. At minimum."
Aseir paused, looking around the table at the other commanders.
"The problem is, Habassa does not have the numbers to challenge all of them at once. I am confident in my ability to take any target you want taken, but holding it is a greater problem. Habassa can not win this war for you. You must decide our next move, as your forces will bear its burden."
Finished for now, Aseir leaned back in his chair, waiting for the next commander to speak.
Akechi stood up and prepared to give his piece.
"I know I am no military commander, but the empire of Galor has been my home for some time now. I am a hunter, and I joined forces with Quarain to overthrow an evil emperor. This has been done and what we are deciding now, I believe, is how to bring back the laws and ideals of the previous Galoric empire. We have the forces of Habassa as our allies, and now is the time at which we must secure what is rightfully ours."
Akechi paused to let anyone speak if they wished. It seemed there were none who harshly opposed the idea, so he continued.
"We must start rebuilding the capital and we desparately need a larger fighting force. With Thrin's approval, I believe his people along with the armies of Habassa will join with us in the destruction of corruption and hatred! It is my wish more than anything to bring stability back to this land that I love, and recreate the glory which was once Galor!"
"I know I am no military commander, but the empire of Galor has been my home for some time now. I am a hunter, and I joined forces with Quarain to overthrow an evil emperor. This has been done and what we are deciding now, I believe, is how to bring back the laws and ideals of the previous Galoric empire. We have the forces of Habassa as our allies, and now is the time at which we must secure what is rightfully ours."
Akechi paused to let anyone speak if they wished. It seemed there were none who harshly opposed the idea, so he continued.
"We must start rebuilding the capital and we desparately need a larger fighting force. With Thrin's approval, I believe his people along with the armies of Habassa will join with us in the destruction of corruption and hatred! It is my wish more than anything to bring stability back to this land that I love, and recreate the glory which was once Galor!"
"I do not know what to do," Quarian stated solenmly. "If there is a garrison at Castle GreyMoor we could use the help of whoever is in charge there. If it were up to me I would have us ride to Greymoor, it is a bustling portcity and many survivers aparently fled down the valley and took refuge there. What do you think?" he directed the question surprisingly at Thrin, who Quarian regarded as intelligent, and valuble as a warrior.
Thrin was pondering all the men around him were speaking of, his hands locked in a way that his forefingers and thumbs were together and pointing up and toward his chin respectively, the rest intertwined. He was leaning back in his chair and staring more into space then directly atthe person infront of him when Quarian asked his question.
"My men are unprepaired, do not get used to the numbers outside, there will be little left when I'm through with them tonight... And as for Greymoor, did you say ride? As in us, ourselves? If it has indeed been taken by an opposing faction, I would not think it wise that men so well known as yourselves should go in person. Until we know who's side these people are on, we should assume them hostile, and indeed we will need to survey them. But would it honestly be wise to go yourself?"
"If your thinking more along the lines of sending riders to report on the happenings there, then that might be pursuable. If, however, you are thinking of riding with an army in tow, you should again reconsider. Such an act would likely be seen as hostile, and weather they would have been friend or foe, they will likely end up as an enemy. Still the decision is to be yours, my leigons are as of yet non-existant."
"My men are unprepaired, do not get used to the numbers outside, there will be little left when I'm through with them tonight... And as for Greymoor, did you say ride? As in us, ourselves? If it has indeed been taken by an opposing faction, I would not think it wise that men so well known as yourselves should go in person. Until we know who's side these people are on, we should assume them hostile, and indeed we will need to survey them. But would it honestly be wise to go yourself?"
"If your thinking more along the lines of sending riders to report on the happenings there, then that might be pursuable. If, however, you are thinking of riding with an army in tow, you should again reconsider. Such an act would likely be seen as hostile, and weather they would have been friend or foe, they will likely end up as an enemy. Still the decision is to be yours, my leigons are as of yet non-existant."
"Greymoor was not taken, the messenger sent here reported that the besiging force joined with another batallion and continued up the river valley, that was when we were attacked. I think that we should ride to greymoor, alone, but one would have to stay behind and maintain order here..." Quarian looked around, sizing up the candidates.
After a moment Quarian stood nd turned towards the doors where a gaurd was standing. "Tell young Nero that we have summoned him," in reply the gaurd walks out the door, returning after an ackward moment of silence. "He is gone sir, supposedly rode off this afternoon just after your first meeting."
Puzzled Quarian sits back down at the table, eying aseir and remembering what he had said.
After a moment Quarian stood nd turned towards the doors where a gaurd was standing. "Tell young Nero that we have summoned him," in reply the gaurd walks out the door, returning after an ackward moment of silence. "He is gone sir, supposedly rode off this afternoon just after your first meeting."
Puzzled Quarian sits back down at the table, eying aseir and remembering what he had said.
"Ahh, then so be it," Thrin said, oddly in a good mood considering he was just proven wrong and made to look like a fool. Indeed, though, it was good news that Greymoor had not been taken, but he was beginning to wonder about this Nero character.
Aseir gave an "I told you so" look in Quarian's direction before speaking. "Thrin is right, taken or not, we can't do anything until we know more about Greymoor's fate. As much as I don't like it, he's probably also right that our army must remain out of sight. Even more dangerous than scaring an ally would be revealing too much if Greymoor has been taken."
"Thrin, meet me at the main gate in an hour, ready to leave. The same for any of you with the foolish courage to come on this trip." That said, the rest of the group at the table witnessed the now-familiar sight of Aseir's back disappearing through the door.
"Thrin, meet me at the main gate in an hour, ready to leave. The same for any of you with the foolish courage to come on this trip." That said, the rest of the group at the table witnessed the now-familiar sight of Aseir's back disappearing through the door.
Quarian wondered the streets, he had picked up an ale from an abandoned shop and now searched through the dark emptied streets. He couldn't see the stars anymore, and the occasional breeze was cold and damp. The sillouhette of the southern wall was now visible, to his right he could make out a smaller breech, thinking about it he didn't remember any seige equiptment. Perhaps, he mused, he had overlooked them in the adrenaline rush.
Finally a sign of what he was looking for, nestled against the southern wall was one of the smaller military stables, he had heard a whine in that direction. He got in through a small gap in its wall, it had collapsed inward sometime during the battle. In the inky darkness nothing was visible, but his eyes adjusted and he could make out shapes and the horse he wanted. He inspectedit, and found no serious wounds on the animal except an initial panick that had already worn off. It was a horse he had stole from an occupation several years before, it was the fastest horse he had rode, before the search party found them both, sadly the horse was taken back but Quarian escaped. Quarian untied the animal from the rail inside his stall and led it out across the stone littered floor to the gap through wich he had entered.
He stepped on something soft, and heard a groan to his right. quickly he began removing stones and rubble, revealing a face covered in blood. he could identify that even in the darkness. "Del Mora... hofa!" and he spat blood. Quarian gave no answer, the man seemed beyond speaking, he was crushed, and pinned under the fallen wall of the stable, the same fate as a nearby horse. "I said," the man paused, and coughed weakly, "you will die in pain..."
"You speak my langauge?" Quarain asked.
"Damn you, scum!" he yelled, and with that, an action that drained the last of his life force, he died.
he has been trapped for several days, quarian realized, and led his horse through the opening.
His ale was gone and when he emerged rain was beginning to fall, it was the first time in weeks. When he reached the main gate of the city and could look out on the valley it was a downpour. If they rode all night they would reach the port of greymoor in the few hours before dawn.
Finally a sign of what he was looking for, nestled against the southern wall was one of the smaller military stables, he had heard a whine in that direction. He got in through a small gap in its wall, it had collapsed inward sometime during the battle. In the inky darkness nothing was visible, but his eyes adjusted and he could make out shapes and the horse he wanted. He inspectedit, and found no serious wounds on the animal except an initial panick that had already worn off. It was a horse he had stole from an occupation several years before, it was the fastest horse he had rode, before the search party found them both, sadly the horse was taken back but Quarian escaped. Quarian untied the animal from the rail inside his stall and led it out across the stone littered floor to the gap through wich he had entered.
He stepped on something soft, and heard a groan to his right. quickly he began removing stones and rubble, revealing a face covered in blood. he could identify that even in the darkness. "Del Mora... hofa!" and he spat blood. Quarian gave no answer, the man seemed beyond speaking, he was crushed, and pinned under the fallen wall of the stable, the same fate as a nearby horse. "I said," the man paused, and coughed weakly, "you will die in pain..."
"You speak my langauge?" Quarain asked.
"Damn you, scum!" he yelled, and with that, an action that drained the last of his life force, he died.
he has been trapped for several days, quarian realized, and led his horse through the opening.
His ale was gone and when he emerged rain was beginning to fall, it was the first time in weeks. When he reached the main gate of the city and could look out on the valley it was a downpour. If they rode all night they would reach the port of greymoor in the few hours before dawn.
A very unhappy Aseir watched through the rain as Quarian approached to join him. At least it's a warm rain... he thought. In the mountains of his homeland, riding in such weather would be likely fatal. If only he was back home, and not off to go die in some foriegn land. And not in the damn rain.
"I'm ready, but Thrin hasn't returned yet. How much longer can we afford to wait?" Aseir asked once Quarian came close enough to hear.
"I'm ready, but Thrin hasn't returned yet. How much longer can we afford to wait?" Aseir asked once Quarian came close enough to hear.
You see that Quarians head is in a slump, rainwater drips form his hair and his horse wines. he vomits over the side of his horse and groans.
" I am sorry... Aseir." he says, "It will wear off soon enough. We will wait for the others." It was the first alcohal Quarain had had in years, and it sickened him, though he did not feel at all drunk.
" I am sorry... Aseir." he says, "It will wear off soon enough. We will wait for the others." It was the first alcohal Quarain had had in years, and it sickened him, though he did not feel at all drunk.
Akechi leaves the meeting and goes immediately to prepare in his quarters. He outfitted himself much like he usually did, and was soon off to get some food before leaving. After filling himself, he lashed his cloak tight to protect from the rain and headed to the gate.
"If you need any assistance," Akechi spoke as soon as he was in range of Aesir and Quarain, "I would like to be of some help. Am I to assume we leave once Thrin arrives?"
Akechi set his small pack down and leaned on the gate wall to wait. He looked up at the sky and felt the rain on his face, wondering what this quest would bring, and how he would fare against the odds. He waited for a response from someone.
"If you need any assistance," Akechi spoke as soon as he was in range of Aesir and Quarain, "I would like to be of some help. Am I to assume we leave once Thrin arrives?"
Akechi set his small pack down and leaned on the gate wall to wait. He looked up at the sky and felt the rain on his face, wondering what this quest would bring, and how he would fare against the odds. He waited for a response from someone.
OOC: For all its relevance:
IC:
A shilouete(sp?) appeared some ways up the road, towing behind it another, slightly larger shilouete. As the forms approached and became clearer, they could be identified easier as the shrouded outline of a man and a horse--Closer still and you could see the man was cloaked and hooded, his face hard to discern in the gloom. Beside him, an unassuming horse packed with modest travelling supplies, and brandishing the sheaths of a couple weapons.
He was undoubtedly Thrin, even if his face was hard to see. He had a slight limp, and only he would travel in such a indistinguishable manner. Had the others known he was once a smuggler, it might have been easier for them to understand why, but as it stood they were content with the fact that looks alone would easily decieve anyone of this mans true temperment. More then once he had proven himself both a strong commanding presence and a deadly warrior, not to mention a great asset to their cause.
Still, his motives remained unclear. Only vauge words had been revealed of the man's past and purpose, none of which giving even the slightest hint of direction. Yet he was there none the less, and few had seen it fit to argue the matter, letting it suffice to only know so little of him.
Thrin arrived quickly, though it seemed to take forever to the increasingly impatient warriors at the gate already. He staved off the forthcoming lectures, telling them something about how hard it is to find a good horse in a battle stricken town... But his mischievious grin belied the fact that something else had occupied his time. By the look of it, it was nothing of vital importance either, yet apparently not worth speaking of--At least from Thrin's standpoint.
QUOTE
Shadow: *Grins smugly and brandishes boots of move-really-really-really-really-really-really-really-really-really-fast! (which grant, mind you, invulnerability to sniper bullets and the like)*
"You have to catch me first!"
"You have to catch me first!"
IC:
A shilouete(sp?) appeared some ways up the road, towing behind it another, slightly larger shilouete. As the forms approached and became clearer, they could be identified easier as the shrouded outline of a man and a horse--Closer still and you could see the man was cloaked and hooded, his face hard to discern in the gloom. Beside him, an unassuming horse packed with modest travelling supplies, and brandishing the sheaths of a couple weapons.
He was undoubtedly Thrin, even if his face was hard to see. He had a slight limp, and only he would travel in such a indistinguishable manner. Had the others known he was once a smuggler, it might have been easier for them to understand why, but as it stood they were content with the fact that looks alone would easily decieve anyone of this mans true temperment. More then once he had proven himself both a strong commanding presence and a deadly warrior, not to mention a great asset to their cause.
Still, his motives remained unclear. Only vauge words had been revealed of the man's past and purpose, none of which giving even the slightest hint of direction. Yet he was there none the less, and few had seen it fit to argue the matter, letting it suffice to only know so little of him.
Thrin arrived quickly, though it seemed to take forever to the increasingly impatient warriors at the gate already. He staved off the forthcoming lectures, telling them something about how hard it is to find a good horse in a battle stricken town... But his mischievious grin belied the fact that something else had occupied his time. By the look of it, it was nothing of vital importance either, yet apparently not worth speaking of--At least from Thrin's standpoint.
Quarian glared at Thrin, as if to begin a rant but his sick eyes and the raiwater dripping off the hair stuck to his forehead communicated what he wanted to say.
"Lets be going then, I want to get as far as we can before the rain gets any worse..." Quarian said and turned the horse south with the rains, soon he was at a quick walking pace, looking up at the dark clouds. He knew all too well how severe the storms got in this valley, the thunder would likely start soon and he found himself wishing he was back in his bedroom, high up in the Rakatal foothills...
[no gaurantee this will keep going but I'll do my best, Theres some sort of curse on my rps, I swear...oh yeah, me gming!]
"Lets be going then, I want to get as far as we can before the rain gets any worse..." Quarian said and turned the horse south with the rains, soon he was at a quick walking pace, looking up at the dark clouds. He knew all too well how severe the storms got in this valley, the thunder would likely start soon and he found himself wishing he was back in his bedroom, high up in the Rakatal foothills...
[no gaurantee this will keep going but I'll do my best, Theres some sort of curse on my rps, I swear...oh yeah, me gming!]
Thrin's smile began to fade, and he looked up as if seeing the rainclouds for the first time. "Aye, you're right about that, friend." After a short moment of watching the rain, he adjusted the saddle and mounted his horse. He checked one of the scabbards attached to a saddlebag to make sure the sword was loose, and then set off behind his companions.
Gradually, his smile returned. Not a huge grin, mind you, but a wry smirk. The smile of someone thinking about a private joke or a secret jest. It was definatly suspicious, more so compared to the covert aura he seemed intent on keeping. But above all else, it was out of character for the man. When was the last time anyone of them had seen him smile, even as he did now? His expression was always deadly serious, as though he had no sense of humor whatsoever... It was almost like watching someone else that looked like Thrin, an imposter perhaps, but one of him was bad enough!
He knew it too. He tried to hide it, but the more he did so, the more it broke out. Oh how it tormented him as he passed through the gates, that he should smile at such a thing. But would it not be worse to frown? At least he can enjoy his singular, pleasant mood; the rain never bothered him anyway.
He asked himself the same question he knew would be brought up in the minds of those around him... When was the last time this happened? In his mind he already knew the answer. Not since she had still been around. Not since them. The corners of this mouth began to sag with that thought-- something he had not wished to visit again.
But vengance would be sweet.
Ish garrahd neen faalt...
Gradually, his smile returned. Not a huge grin, mind you, but a wry smirk. The smile of someone thinking about a private joke or a secret jest. It was definatly suspicious, more so compared to the covert aura he seemed intent on keeping. But above all else, it was out of character for the man. When was the last time anyone of them had seen him smile, even as he did now? His expression was always deadly serious, as though he had no sense of humor whatsoever... It was almost like watching someone else that looked like Thrin, an imposter perhaps, but one of him was bad enough!
He knew it too. He tried to hide it, but the more he did so, the more it broke out. Oh how it tormented him as he passed through the gates, that he should smile at such a thing. But would it not be worse to frown? At least he can enjoy his singular, pleasant mood; the rain never bothered him anyway.
He asked himself the same question he knew would be brought up in the minds of those around him... When was the last time this happened? In his mind he already knew the answer. Not since she had still been around. Not since them. The corners of this mouth began to sag with that thought-- something he had not wished to visit again.
But vengance would be sweet.
Ish garrahd neen faalt...
Finally, Aseir thought, as Thrin joined the group. He turned to complain about the delay, but as he saw the man's expression, his ability to speak suddenly left him. He was smiling.
Not smiling, he corrected himself with a flare of anger and disgust, laughing.
Laughing.
Aseir's sword was half-drawn before rational thought finally returned. Not now, he reminded himself. You can't afford a mistake like that. Saying nothing to his arrogant "ally", he rode past and down the road after Quarian.
Not smiling, he corrected himself with a flare of anger and disgust, laughing.
Laughing.
Aseir's sword was half-drawn before rational thought finally returned. Not now, he reminded himself. You can't afford a mistake like that. Saying nothing to his arrogant "ally", he rode past and down the road after Quarian.
As the group rode out across the waterlogged plain the river curved toward them. The hills on their flanks closed about them, and a narrow passage shared by the river was the only passage out of the valley. The rain came in sheets now, sweeping across the low contours of the plain. The Rakatal's now fast moving water was brown with sediment and runoff from the mountains and its banks were high, delivering the fertility of the Galoric farmland with each heavy rain.
Thrin kept his eyes straight ahead, staring at nothing. He listened to the thundering of the Rakatal and the rythmic pounding of the rain. His good mood had passed, his face once again an emotionless mask surrounded by the endless, rainy gloom. He might have spoken, were it speaking weather, but people had the tendancy to grow irritated in the rain. Angry people are not much for conversation.
As he pondered other things, the smuggler part of his mind registered that there was only one exit to this place, should they need it. He felt more unease at that then by the weather. Still, he didn't give the thought much care after noticing, and returned to his brooding in silence, listenting only to the wet plodding of the horses.
As he pondered other things, the smuggler part of his mind registered that there was only one exit to this place, should they need it. He felt more unease at that then by the weather. Still, he didn't give the thought much care after noticing, and returned to his brooding in silence, listenting only to the wet plodding of the horses.
Akechi drew his cloak closer to his body, fastening it down to the belt. The rain had picked up in frequency, and it seemed as if the droplets were heavier as well. He knew this land well, and the terrain was fairly redundant for quite a distance. Akechi looked to the sky and there were clouds all about, it looked as if the rain may go on for some time. It seemed as if some riding positions had changed recently, so Akechi moved himself back to make the group more of a formation. He found himself keeping pace with Thrin. Akechi looked over and spoke. "I trust you're used to adverse weather," Akechi assumed, "because we're going to be in this storm for quite a while."
Thrin's eyes shifted from the glazed over look back to their usual intensity. Did someone just speak, or was I imagining it. He paused for another moment before looking in Akechi's direction, and realized he was waiting expectantly. Oh, he asked about the weather.
"Yes, is suspect it shall," he replied, hoping that it was a suitable answer to the question. He hadn't been expecting anyone to break his train of thought, not that it had been very long. "I trust you're prepared as well."
"Yes, is suspect it shall," he replied, hoping that it was a suitable answer to the question. He hadn't been expecting anyone to break his train of thought, not that it had been very long. "I trust you're prepared as well."
The party's arrival at the mouth of the river valley was protested by the night's first roar of ear splitting thunder. A howling wind blows up through the canyon, carrying the scent of the sea and what seams to be gallons of near vertical rain into your face. Muddy streams are flowing freely down from the hills into the raging Rakatal.
A mile further the extreem has only intensified, you can no longer hear the clop of your horses hooves and the constant howl is deafening. The canyon bends eastward as you travel, at last showing calm skies toward the coast. The nature of storm systems originating south of Galor was to pound the shore breifly, and be drawn up the rakatal river valley by the warm air that hangs over Galor. Essentially trapping them within the mountains until they rained out, leaving the coast a tempting refuge, but to seek it, it would be to brave the hell that was the torrent of winds rushing up the valley with the storm. "Aseir" Quarian managed, directing his horse towards his. "Will this be the first time your eyes are blessed by the sight of the sea?"
A mile further the extreem has only intensified, you can no longer hear the clop of your horses hooves and the constant howl is deafening. The canyon bends eastward as you travel, at last showing calm skies toward the coast. The nature of storm systems originating south of Galor was to pound the shore breifly, and be drawn up the rakatal river valley by the warm air that hangs over Galor. Essentially trapping them within the mountains until they rained out, leaving the coast a tempting refuge, but to seek it, it would be to brave the hell that was the torrent of winds rushing up the valley with the storm. "Aseir" Quarian managed, directing his horse towards his. "Will this be the first time your eyes are blessed by the sight of the sea?"
Akechi had to raise his voice quite high to be able to respond to Thrin. "Well, nothing fully prepares you for these storms; but I'm certainly used to it!" Akechi was almost yelling to carry his voice over the thunder and howling wind. "I've been on many a hunting trip when these storms have broken out. In that situation there's not much to do but make for shelter to wait it out. It's much more miserable being on foot in this incessant rain." Akechi turned to face the direction they were traveling, not expecting a verbose answer from Thrin.
This is a "lo-fi" version of our main content. To view the full version with more information, formatting and images, please click here.