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| Knights of Logres | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: September 1, 2012, 6:40 pm (5,633 Views) | |
| Onime No Ryu | September 1, 2012, 6:40 pm Post #1 |
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I'll be your Undertaker this evening
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A knight is sworn to valour. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His might upholds the weak. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked. --The Old Code of the First Knights I here swear fealty and do homage to my lord; to ever be a good knight and true, reverent and generous, shield of the weak, obedient to my liege-lord, foremost in battle, courteous at all times, champion of the right and the good. Thus swear I... --The Oath of all Knights of Logres In the southern lands of civilized men, far from the barbaric wilderness of the North, lies the great kingdom of Logres. For many an age has Logres prospered and flourished, and its kings ruled with a strong and just hand. So it was until the time of King Tristain. Though Tristain was a fair ruler and did the kingdom no great injustice compared to his predecessors, it was during his reign that the North became much agitated. The Barbarian tribes came together as one under Sverir Fydar and stormed down the Throttle, that narrow strip of land connecting our world to theirs. Logres's armies had slowly begun to dwindle and the days had grown long since their cities and towns repaired and maintained their walls and towers; the last two-score years had been so peaceful that, for a time, the Knights of Logres feared their order might cease to exist. In its weakened state the kingdom was slow to halt the charge of the Northmen. The wild hordes swept across the Broadback Mountains, and though the wedge that was the Aegis divided their forces it did not stop them. The men of Bristel were caught unprepared, and only when the guard of Eastbridge marched to their defense did the Northerners cease a relentless assault. But while an uneasy stalemate persisted on one side of the mountains, King Tristain and his sons, brilliant younger Rhys and strong elder Conall, drove the barbarians back across the mountains. From the Hilt that had not seen battle in half a century and the depths of Nightwood came their armies, and even the strange, swift longboats from Yamajima hassled any northmen who thought to slink along the sloping shores below the Broadback. Landing at Eastbridge, the islanders added their forces to the other half of the army, while the King and his sons reinforced the Aegis. The Logermen drove their foes back in a matter of months, and once again peace reigned; however, unlike the lazy days of before, these were days filled with activity such as the hive of bees at the onset of spring. The King gave his sons leave to separate tasks--Rhys was to oversee the gathering of resources and make plans for reconstruction, while Conall was tasked with strengthening the armies and repairing what damage had been done to the great fortress Aegis, for it was a cornerstone of their victory and all felt that they would have sore need of it in the future. Tristain himself took a host to Waveguard to lay plans for naval warfare and consider the possibilities of raiding the north to further cement their victory. Because the war had turned so many boys to men and men to soldiers, and soldiers had performed deeds that earned them lands and titles, the Knights of Logres found their ranks swelling like never before, and set about hosting great tournaments and games and breaking in their new castles. But soon Logres faced a new crisis. Whether his age began to catch up with him, or as a result of the stress of the war, or because of the exposure to the harsh northern elements...perhaps for all of these reasons, the King fell ill. He was quickly rushed back to Kingsport to receive proper treatment, but the trip proved too much for him. Frail and fragile, he died in the arms of his youngest son Rhys, and both brothers wept from the bottom to the top of the mountains. As the kingdom was still in the midst of reconstruction, it was agreed that Rhys would take over the management of the kingdom while Conall continued strengthening the defensive lines and making plans for the northern invasion. At this time, both were sure that Conall, as the eldest, would naturally inherit the crown. But as weeks turned to months, Rhys became more and more convinced that his brother was not the ruler that the people of Logres needed. Whether lust for power or simple logic dominated his thoughts, none can say. But Rhys soon declared his intentions to his brother, and after a flurry of angry letters between them, Logres found itself divided down the middle. Conall, entrenched in the impenetrable Aegis, demanded the crown by the right of eldest son and head of the family line, as well as by right of strength, for their father had left him in charge of the military. He had been raised and groomed for this moment for years before his brother had even been born, and to have his birthright snatched away was nothing short of treason. Rhys denied this on the grounds that Logres needed proper guidance, and its people needed a king that Conall could not become. He placed the crown upon his own head and claimed that for the common good and for the betterment of all he would take upon himself all responsibility. The Knights of Logres were divided between these two according to those whose lands and banners belonged to the different territories each brother claimed, with the exception of those who chose one side or the other for their own personal reasons. Now, what will surely become a bloody civil war begins... RULES GENERAL STUFF WORLD INFO AND MAP KNIGHT STUFF YOU CAN POST NOW Edited by Onime No Ryu, September 1, 2012, 9:28 pm.
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| NTNP | September 11, 2012, 10:18 am Post #51 |
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Admin
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Silvis Family Ocean Gulf "I think it is safe to assume we all have a general idea of what our best chances of survival are regarding this war." Carth looked back and forth at his compatriots, hoping that they understood why this mission was so important. "Any attempt to match on the Aegis is fool hearty at best and downright suicidal at worst. With the entire eastern half of the nation at her back, there is no reason why Conall couldn't hold us off indefinitely. I'd say the best chance we would ever have of taking that place would be to siege it and launch infected bodies over the walls to try and poison them out. So the only real option will be a naval invasion, which has been confirmed due to our mission being to negotiate with the Emperor of Yama about an alliance or at least a promise of neutrality. If we can secure safe passage through the sea, we might have a chance but that still only gets us into the water, not onto land. So that leaves us with three options in my mind." "First we could always attempt to dock on some random point on the map, hoping that we can secure the ships and get all our belongs off without incident in the middle of a beach somewhere away from prying eyes, but that would take a great deal of time and during it would leave our troops as sitting ducks if we were discovered. So the most obvious answer would be to take control of one of the port towns, which namely means either East Bridge which is under the dominion of the Caledons or we take the fight to our true enemy by taking West Bridge from Conall and leaving him no way of getting back into the sea." Now came the meat of the conversation from before in the throne room. Carth decided to lay everything out as honestly as he could to those on the ship. "While Rhys has chosen not to continue with my initial plan, I had originally hoped that the night before we arrived that the various..." How best can I say this without offending them "Individuals that are rarely satisfied with the status quo could be spurred to action with the correct amount of promises, gold, coercion and subterfuge against Prince Conall, although at the end of the day they would probably be willing to rebel against us if we were controlling the town just as easily. These troublemakers could begin to riot, taking the attention away from our actions for a little while the night before our landing, utterly throwing a wrench in the Prince's planned response to us. I would have suggested that we make it known that our intention is to land in East Bridge, making it look like this little mob was little more than a diversion, likely resulting in Conall either ignoring it or sending a token force to put it down, one that we could easily devastate as our first ships hit landfall. Such a plan would make it where landing in West Bridge's harbor would have been much easier, especially with what little of the mob being on our side becoming enveloped by our army and turned into a militia unit afterward, assuming that any of them survive at all." While the intial plan, he deemed was rather good, Carth decided to outline what the Prince was wanting to do now as well. "Alternatively Rhys would prefer something more honorable, with the peasants attempting acts more meant for spies and professionals rather than soldiers like ourselves. I believe in his mind, he would rather see them in a non-combat role to let them avoid bloodshed, although the realization that it will be our blood split instead seemed to give him a bit of pause. But Rhys desires to see the peasantry to act in secret but I highly doubt that the dogs could keep their loyalties secret even if they wished. At the end of the day, the Prince's hope involves seeing the people not used as part of our warmachine, while mine considers them a valid, and important, weapon of war. But whatever Tristan's son chooses for us to do, I'll follow. He asked me to send a request for a more moderate involvement of the common folk in less overt tasks last night for less than I had originally insinuated. I should receive word after our trip about their reply. While I am sure our messengers will get the information back to us, I don't think that such 'cloak and dagger' work will befit salt covered fishermen, braggart drunks, cut purses and coin carrying killers. If they don't manage to screw it up, get captured and end up having it all come crashing down or worst yet be found out and turned into an ambush for our troops I'll be amazed but, that's the nature of things. At the end of the day, Rhys' word is our command and this is his wish... although perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea for us to talk to Caledons' heads and see if they might consider letting us use East Bridge as a landing point for real, giving us more options." |
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| The Best | September 11, 2012, 12:46 pm Post #52 |
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Scout
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Red THE AEGIS ~ Infirmary Though Red found a cot and did his best to relax, sleep would not come to him. Every time the man closed his eyes, the after-image of Conall's might flashed behind his eyelids, a dark silhouette permanently burned into his mind. Thinking about it made cold chills run up and down the warrior's spine, but at the same time, he felt anticipation building in the pit of his stomach. Raw adrenaline coursed through Red's body as he lay there, taking long shallow breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself. Despite what I've just seen, all I can think about is fighting him. That power! It was terrifying! Red tossed and turned, ears perking up at the sound of voices coming from the hallway. One was loud and brusque; a trait Red had found common in the tones of the Northern people. He recognized the voice as that of William, the man who had followed him here. The other was more quiet and hard to distinguish, but Red felt as if it was somewhat familiar. Still, his thoughts were on nothing but Conall. I know I won't be satisfied until I get to test myself against this man. This 'King' of the North... The hairs on the back of Red's neck suddenly stood on end, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. A terrible, cold presence filled the room, and the young warrior suddenly knew exactly who William was talking to. Ishen? Here? Only once or twice before in his life had Red felt this presence, and even then, only from a great distance back on Yamajima. No matter where he was though, there was no mistaking it. Not unlike Conall, Ishen gave off an aura that was instantly recognizable. This was often the case with such powerful individuals. Being so close to such might gave Red the chills, and the thought that these two were working together filled him with a mixture of dread and awe. This Rhys must be a very brave man... Eventually, Ishen's aura faded away, and Red let out a long, drawn out sigh--He had been holding his breath unintentionally. A wave of exhaustion washed over the man just then; Exhaustion and relief. He was suddenly finding himself drowsy, as if just being around Ishen had worn him out. The sleep that had so valiantly evaded Red finally came. As darkness fell over the castle, only the occasional rustle interrupted the regular, rhythmic sound of Red's breathing. A good night's sleep was exactly what he needed. |
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| Perascamin | September 11, 2012, 2:43 pm Post #53 |
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A Legendary Ocean
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The Aegis It seemed everyone was united under a common conviction to obliterate the Northern offensive before they could cause anymore grief. Letting his arm fall back into position Austin grinned with soft chuckles as everyone expressed their opinion to destroy the invaders. However, in the back of his mind the young man felt an anger stirring, curdling his blood as if enraged. If anyone was watching they'd notice him clench his fists tight. They have the audacity to knock upon our doorstop, and terrorize MY kinsman? Right now they line up the prisoners, and burn the fallen. We will show them, when our forces collide, the TRUE meaning of FEAR. The impaler thought to himself, his balled up hands trembling with fury. As the former commanding officer called his attention, Austin looked up to meet his gaze with a nod and followed him. Mercy is reserved for those who deserve it, and these barbarians shall have none of it. The halberd raised his head just as a memory came to him. Kill. Them. All. |
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In War; Victory. In Peace; Vigilance. In Death; Sacrifice. Dawn Eros (hot mama): Spoiler: click to toggle | |
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| Kazemitsu | September 11, 2012, 3:20 pm Post #54 |
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Assassin
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Broadback Mountains Drogo hummed idly to himself as his cleaver hacked into the flank of a roasting elk. The hunters, also scouts, of the group had come back with a three of the creatures. Their hides were already curing on racks while the antlers were being used to fashion handles for knives, or some pieces used for decoration on their armor. The bones were being boiled for soup while the flesh and organs roasted on the open flames. Nothing on the animals was wasted, even the blood which was going to be used to thicken the soup so it became stew once meat and vegetables were thrown in. Thankfully he wasn't the cook otherwise everything would taste atrocious. That thought made him chuckle quietly before tearing into the meat he had carved off. Shoving the meat to the side of his mouth he rumbled out. "Other scouts back yet?" His dark eyes went to the scoutmaster. The more slender of the two shook his head. "Probably won't be back til the moon is high..." He replied before tearing into his own hunk of meat. "I see...feels like we're being watched..." He muttered before looking casually around the camp. "Have the rest strengthen the wall a little...I don't like the thought of their cavalry getting through...also make sure we have enough arrows." He ordered. The scoutmaster nodded and darted off to spread around the orders. "I don't like this...they've been letting us do what we want for to long..." He said to himself before returning to his meaty meal. |
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| Pontiac1532 | September 11, 2012, 9:05 pm Post #55 |
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Allison Noir Still Lost Upon hearing the voice, Allison's hand instantly gone to the sword at her waist, drawing it one smooth motion. She placed herself between the bandits and Jeremus. She began to speak, but was cut off by the leader's demands. Suffice to say, she was more than a little puzzled. She eyed the man warily, looking up and down. If she hadn't know better, she would've mistaken him for a high-ranking soldier, if not a noble. Yet, here he was, robbing them. Judging by his accent, he had at least some degree of noble upbringing. Maybe he was an ex-noble? "Only half our goods? How generous of you." She mused politely, showing no inclination to do as the man had ordered. "Obviously there's only one of me, and quite a few of you, so the odds of me walking away from a fight with all of you is almost zero. Rest assured, though, that I won't be the only one dying here today." She looked around to all of the men standing around her, then back to the leader. She and Jeremus had planned for such an event, and even as she spoke he took the glaive down from its secured position across her back, holding it lamely in front of himself. She had shown him how to use it, but he lacked the skill and grace of a warrior. "Or, you could just take everything in the wagon including the gold, plus my horse, and walk away. I doubt I could keep up with you without my horse, and I have a particular fondness for my weapons. Of course, you could try to fight me, but I guarantee you a few of your men will die in the process. Of course, you may not care about your men's lives, but I'm sure they do. And I guarantee you anyone who gets within arms reach of me is going to die." Allison was thankful that she had kept her shield strapped to her arm, and it was a simple movement to shrug it down to her hand. She stood, balanced lightly on her toes and ready to fight. She was also glad that Jeremus had packed only a small portion of his stock, most of which was in Kingsport. The contents of the wagon amounted to a few small barrels of ale and a handful of trinkets. Most of the contents, however, was gold Jeremus had earned. All in all, it amounted to about 2000 gold, plus the ale. Edited by Pontiac1532, September 11, 2012, 9:09 pm.
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| NTNP | September 12, 2012, 8:11 pm Post #56 |
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Admin
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((Posting yet again, apparently because I am the only one playing by the "Once per day you post" rule... even given that today I took a giant state mandated test, got a 68th percentile and can now teach English to 9th-10th graders in secondary school but still posting. You know, given the small amount of time it takes to shoot one of these things out you really should be rather disappointed in yourselves. Once a day, given the amount of time you spend on here bitching about inactivity is really rather pathetic.)) Silvis Family Open Ocean As the conversation seemed to stagnate even further, a sudden wave of exhaustion began to overtake Sir Carth. Truth was his stomach had been weak from the beginning but with that last wave as they broke into open ocean, it took his entire strength not to coat the table with vomit. Slowly his eyes fished back and forth along with the walls as sweat rolled down the old man's brow. Dion instinctively stood up and backpedaled waving his hands frantically as his father's strength finally gave way to the wave's fierce demands. "Everybody! Dad's about to-" then it came. Bits of what one could only hope to be pork came rolling across the table along with a noxious looking brown goo that stunk like death and liver disease. The old knight tettered back and forth for a moment before offering up a loud belch and then a look of pure embarrassment. Without a word he rolled himself out of the chair, taking it down to the floor as he stood before another wave crashed into the boat and that familiar green color raced over his face. As he burst through the door, the party heard a loud gush noise that likely meant that the hallway wasn't going to be in much better condition than the conference room. Then a silence overtook the room, possibly because anyone that spoke would have to taste the aroma of death. After what felt like an eternity, Dion finally spoke after pinching his nose and resisting the urge follow in his father's footsteps. "Umm, so I think we might wanna call it a night, what do you say?" Without even waiting for a reply, the young man bolted toward the door, taking special care not to step in any of the goo and being extremely thankful that none of his father's- best not to think about if anyone else got hit by anything here. Otherwise Dion was pretty sure he'd need both clothing solution and some for his mind as well. "Ugggghhh, otherwise that smell's gonna make me sick too. Sorry for- just ewwww. I really would hate to be the peasant that had to clean that up. And anyone know where we bring laundy, I don't think that- never mind I'll figure it out myself..." At that the youngest of the Silvis knights exited the room, stripping off his shirt as he went. |
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| Matttheman89 | September 13, 2012, 10:20 am Post #57 |
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Assassin
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Ocean "Whoa! He wasn't kidding when he said he got seasick!" Tyrion exclaimed as he pushed back his chair and jumped up when Carth proceeded to empty his bowels all over the room. He'd seen people get a little green around the gills on the Ocean before, but he didn't think he'd ever seen someone get so violently sick so quickly. The smell was horrible, and he had to pinch his nose shut in an effort to keep from breathing it in. "Good grief...why would the King send Sir Carth out here...?" Dion quickly left the room as well, and after a few seconds, Tyrion looked over at Owen and shrugged his shoulders. "So...uh...meeting adjourned?" he asked. There really didn't seem to be much point in continuing the conversation now with just the two of them, afterall. |
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| The Best | September 13, 2012, 1:38 pm Post #58 |
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((It sure is nice to see that we're the only ones following the rules that Onime himself made, eh NTNP? He didn't post at all yesterday, and he needs to timeskip to the next morning so we can start the assault on the mountains or whatever. We can only post as often as you do, Onime.)) |
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| Onime No Ryu | September 14, 2012, 10:10 pm Post #59 |
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I'll be your Undertaker this evening
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((I profusely apologize to everyone for the lack of posts over the past few days. The only excuse I can offer is that I was burned out and feeling depressed, and you all know how pathetic I am when it comes to things like that. And I thought that it was fine to just give up, because I'm used to having my RPs die. But this time, it's not dying because of anyone else; it's my fault. The whole reason I want to make RPs, to make games, is for the audience, for the players, to make them feel the way I feel when I play a great game or finish a great book. No matter what I'm feeling, I owe it to you guys. I'm sorry I disappointed you. And I'm going to try my best to fix it. So, just don't give up on me, or on KoL. Special thanks to Onis, for helping me clear out my thoughts.)) OCEAN GULF En route to Yamajima "Sir Carth, if you are this worried about being betrayed or your agents in Westbridge being unable to complete their mission in a matter that the King would be happy with, why did you choose them in the first place?" Owen said, somewhat snappish. "Give us the names of those you distrust and we shall keep them at our fronts. Send your letters to those you think will suceed instead of those you mislike. Otherwise you will keep going in circles over and over again, with the King or those such as myself offering our objections only to repeat ourselves. We gain nothing from it. There are times when one must simply have faith." Unfortunately, the weight of Sir Owen's words did not quite register with Sir Carth--or perhaps they were too heavy. The man was suddenly violently sick, and only Owen's battle-honed reflexes saved him from the spray. He practically threw his chair across the room in the scramble to get away from the table. "Um, yes, Young Dion, Sir Stark. Quite right. Let us get some rest--and perhaps haul up some water to boil for a shower?" However, as Dion and Carth were the first to leave, followed by the captain and first mate, Tyrion and Owen were the only ones left. The Holy Lance grabbed Tyrion's arm before the knight had fully risen from his chair. "Sir Stark." he said. "Do not mistake what I am about to say for some cloak and dagger game...But I feel that I must ask you to watch Sir Carth closely." The knight sighed, only as one who had fought alongside the man long enough to know his qualities good and bad could sigh. "Sir Stark, you are a knight truly out of the old tales. From humble birth you have risen only on the strength of your character and your arm, not by crafty words nor wealth nor undeserved favor. You are a knight of the people. You know them and understand them. Sir Carth is very learned, and has experienced much...but I feel, despite his honor, he is in some aspects misled. Perhaps I look too far into the future and presume too much...but when we reach Westbridge, stay with him." Owen patted Tyrion's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "Do not let him throw the people to the lions at a mere shadow of suspicion." The man turned to leave by himself, but before he stepped out of the door he glanced over his shoulder to meet Tyrion's gaze one more time. And then the room was lit by the radiant boughs of a grand tree, its bark solid silver and its leaves all gilded and running with ruby sap. But its branches, though they still glimmered, were all haft and spearhead, a thousand lances as one. "And of course, no one will know of what I spoke to you here." Then the light faded and the knight was gone. The next few days were as gently rolling as the waves they rode upon. The wind and the currents were in their favor, it seemed, and the crew knew their business. No storm buffeted their sails and they spied no other ships, not even once they reached the truly open seas and the world seemed to become a flat, empty expanse of blue. Despite that description there were surely wonders here as well; dolphins followed in their wake, and the gulls and even a lucky albatross perched upon their riggings whenever they tired from their journeys around the world. The Knights' certainly had their tasks to do, but against the unchanging backdrop under a sun that was never blocked by rooftops or dimmed by thick glass windows, the hours seemed to stretch on without end. The ships' crews and the soldiers were all drilled in the necessary patterns, prepared for a number of variables. An attack at sea, a land invasion, a quick getaway should the negotiations go south...with luck, they had prepared themselves for everything. Letters were written and doves sent to report their progess, such as it was, to King Rhys. But other than the constant meetings that seemed, true to Owen's words, to go in circles, one could easily feel that there was absolutely nothing to do. And so it was that Owen tapped a wooden staff upon the deck, and called out to the other knights. "Does anyone fancy a few sparring games? I'm so bored I fear I might toss myself overboard just to see what the fish are up to!" THE AEGIS ENTRANCE GATE Outriding force The commanding officer, a Sir Harding by name and a somewhat stocky, bald headed man by appearance with a beard that covered his entire jaw in black fuzz, led fifteen men through the gate on horseback. The brothers of Idlewood rode in the first row behind him, along with a few other soldiers who had previously served under him in the North War. Behind them the force was mostly made up of entirely new recruits, among them a young looking boy who couldn't quite seem to get the hang of the saddle. None of their horses, save Sir Harding's, were of any real pedigree--they were simple rouncey stock for the most part, with a few of the older or richer soldiers riding coursers, but none of them were of an age or fitness intended for hard battle. After all, they would have to dismount once they reached the crags where the northmen had been cornered. Even so, Trent had never ridden a horse of any kind before--he hadn't even ridden a mule back in his village--and looked a right fool as his mount wobbled through the ranks like a drunkard. And then, somewhere in the middle of the platoon, sat the man called Red. That morning the King's right hand, the islander Sir Ishen, had come to his cot. "The King wishes to see your worth, if your injuries will permit." was all he had said. Of course, it was easy to see that there was a bit more to it. If Red couldn't be trusted, it would be nothing at all to just have him thrown onto the rocks somewhere, or to let the northmen rip him apart. But with every storm cloud came a silver lining--perhaps if he did well in this skirmish, they would take him more seriously. "Forward!" called Harding, his jowls rippling with the shout. "Road trot!" The soldiers matched their pace to his--even Trent, though it was mostly the horse following its brethren while the boy struggled to stay aright. He was practically sitting horizontal in the saddle now. ((Feel free to do whatever during the time it took to get there but I'm skipping ahead a little bit just for convenience's sake.)) When they finally dismounted, Trent could hardly feel his ass and his legs moved like a pair of iron tongs. Still he held his sword at the ready and moved carefully through the rocks with the others. Somewhere off to his right he heard a bleat, and looked up to see a family of mountain goats chewing their cud and watching the platoon with bored expressions. How they could stand almost vertically on what seemed like nothing at all against that sheer rock face baffled him. Harding held up a fist and the column stopped in its tracks. Some of the others were already glancing around and holding their weapons at the ready. Trent did the same though he had no idea why. But the others who had seen battle before could tell that the rocks around them now were not natural. They had been stacked or rolled in formation; they were protective walls. "They may very well be right on top of us." Harding whispered to William and Austin. "Keep your wits about you, boys!" ((Kaze you can control the northerners or I can, doesn't matter to me.)) LOST ON THE PLAINS "Why make trouble for us?" asked the leader of the bandits, matching Allison's glare--was that a twinkling of praise she saw in his eye?--and slowly riding his horse in a circle around their small camp. "Look here, woman, we are no common road thieves. Breaking the law here is a...necessary sacrifice. A mercenary should know their trade--do you think soldiers just march through a village without ripping every ear of corn they can reach from its fields, hm?" He stretched nonchalantly, but slipped one hand through the strap of his shield in the same motion. "One more chance! Drop your weapons, your money bags, and roll out half of what's in the wagon, then you can leave! Rest assured your goods are going to a worthy cause!" The men surrounding the cap were too tense, their grips on their weapons tight. It looked like the man wasn't going to ask again. |
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| Kazemitsu | September 14, 2012, 10:55 pm Post #60 |
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Assassin
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Broadback Mountains It was a new day and the raiders were already packed up and moving away from the camp site. They were shifting a little out of the crags and had set up a little 'outpost' of sorts. It wasn't indestructible but it would do its job of keeping them safe while the warriors would have to climb up to do anything. Drogo was sitting cross legged while spying through the small hole between a couple rocks. His comrades were doing the same thing while the hunters readied their horn bows. Unlike these southerners....no volleys and hope you hit something. They're real marksmen He thought. They waited like this for hours. When they got hungry they mowed down on dried meat before returning to their watch. Was soon after their snack that they heard the telltale rattle of metal armor. It was like ringing a gong for the barbarians of the north. Drogo grinned as the group of soldiers stepped in, such a small group. He waved his hand to his bow wielding comrades. There were seven archers in all, four on his side and three across the way. The four picked a target, which were conveniently ones not facing towards them, before loosing their arrows. Four soft thwips resounded before followed by another three coming from the opposite side. Lets see how they handle this... He thought. |
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| Pontiac1532 | September 14, 2012, 11:13 pm Post #61 |
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Allison Noir Pissed Off Allison's hand inched the blade out of its scabbard, but before she could draw her weapon completely, she was stopped by Jeremus' hand on hers. "It's alright Allison, you don't need to die here today. Think about it, what do you value more, your weapons or your life?" Allison scowled. She obviously didn't want to forfeit her father's weapons. Seeing the defiance in her eyes, Jeremus continued. "Or, I could make it an order?" Allison's scowled deepened. "How do we know they're not just going to slit our throats after I've dropped my sword? You know better than anyone that a marauder's word means nothing to me. They're bandits, Jeremus, even if they claim not to be. I'm not going to just give up my father's sword without a fight. And I'm not going to follow an order I think puts you in harms way." They stared each other down for several moments, until finally Allison broke. "Oh blast it all, fine. Either way we're dead. I'm haunting your family, Jeremus." She turned sharply on her heel and, in one expert motion, detached her scabbard and shield and threw them on the ground. Jeremus followed shortly with the glaive. She looked at Jeremus and whispered. "Ten gold says they sell us into slavery." "I'll take that bet." |
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| The Best | September 15, 2012, 12:07 am Post #62 |
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Scout
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Red THE AEGIS -> BROADBACK MOUNTAINS Much of Red's night had been spent tossing and turning in his cot. His dreams were filled with dragons of all shapes and sizes, and it was more than once that Red woke to find himself shaking, body covered in cold sweat. The next morning he felt groggy, but rested. Despite a bit of soreness from his wounds, Red felt much better than he had the day before, and so when Ishen came to him speaking of the King's desire to test his worth, the young man jumped at the opportunity. "I would be honored, Master Ishen." Red dipped his head respectfully. "He shall not be disappointed." The ride to the broadbacks was dull and uneventful, but Red used his time wisely, stretching his arms, back and legs before setting to work oiling and polishing his gauntlets. Already the young warrior could feel his heart rate quickening. In the distance, the Broadback Mountains grew ever nearer, anticipation settling over the soldiers like a woolen blanket. By the time they had reached the base of the mountain, Red had donned his breastplate and gauntlets, fully ready for confrontation. Adrenaline coursed through his system, and it was all he could do to stop himself from leaping off the silly horse he rode and sprinting up the mountain. The climb was slow going and arduous: their mounts were made for valleys and plains, not the rocky crags that made up the Broadbacks. Eventually they reached a point where the horses could go no further, and they were forced to dismount. Red dropped off his horse quickly, landing without a sound. Other soldiers dismounted noisily, armor clinking audibly. A small sigh of displeasure escaped the islander, but he said nothing. His eyes scanned the surrounding hills and narrowed quickly--Those look like... Walls...? thwip Red instantly dropped to the ground, arrows hissing by overhead. Several of the soldiers surrounding him cried out in a mixture of shock and agony as the shafts pierced their chainmail. Screams filled the warrior's ears as he assessed the injuries: Many of the soldiers had been hit in their throats or joints--weaknesses in their armor. These are no amateurs we're dealing with. Hisses overhead accompanied by more screams. The archers had fired another volley. Red instantly sprang to his feet, body kept low to the ground, arms pressed against his sides. His goal was to make the smallest target possible, and he was doing a pretty good job. Weaving between soldiers, the man darted for the hill, keeping himself as close to the slope as possible. With any luck, the barbarian's own wall would prevent them from hitting him, if he could just stay as flat as possible. Though his footing was bad, Red was able to scramble up the hill rapidly, using both his hands and feet to keep a grip on the terrain. When he finally reached the top, Red flowed over the low rock wall like a stream, falling upon a marksman who had only just started nocking his next shaft. Vainly, the man tried to raise his weapon in time to stop Red, but the warrior was too quick. Spinning to the archer's left, Red threw out his right arm, knocking the weapon aside. Momentum brought his left around in a vicious hook, spiked knuckles driving into the barbarian's ribs. Blood bubbled from the man's mouth as Red pushed him to the ground, eyes already searching for his next target. At least half a dozen of the savages were posted here, some with bows in their hands, others wielding clubs and the like. One particularly mean looking warrior sporting a grisly beard and a mohawk stood only feet from him, more than likely dropping into a fighting stance now that the enemy was in striking range. "Come then!" Red demanded, eyes constantly scanning the small group from behind his raised gauntlets. Here, in these close quarters, their bows would be nearly useless, as Red would be able to watch them draw and aim, and react accordingly. Melee weapons were their best bet, and they would be smart to use them quickly, before the rest of the soldiers came to join this foolish young man who wielded no weapons. "Show me the might of the North!" |
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| oniskieth | September 15, 2012, 1:07 am Post #63 |
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The Silver Light
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William of Idlewood Broadback Mountains There wasn't much group talking during the ride to the broadback. William tried to keep a conversation going with the new recruits whenever he could. Each had a different story, but each one reminded the veteran soldier of his own experience in the army. A time when he was just a recruit, marching (or in this case riding) off to stop a hoard of Northerners. Had two years already passed? William dismounted once Harding gave the order. "You can feel the north wind. Keep your shield up." William whispered to his brother before Harding whispered his own warning. "Understood." William softly answered drawing his sword. Turning his head William saw Red ducking for cover, and immediately the veteran soldier followed his lead, dragging a new recruit by the collar as he did so. William glanced to where was standing, seeing an arrow stuck in the ground along with multiple injured recruits. "I..I..." was all the recruit William had saved could managed to say. Quickly the rest of the soldiers were along the wall with him. Hopefully everyone had realized where they were being attacked from at this point "Get you're heads on straight. It'll be a story for later." William said to the distraught soldiers as he tried to think of a plan. How are we going to get over that wall without being shot to hell. It would be difficult for the soldiers to scale the wall under arrow fire, and it would be pointless to return fire at the low elevation. If only we had a distraction William thought as a plan shot into his mind, and as fate would have it Red had just rushed the wall alone. "While they're focused on him charge and form a staircase!" William yelled at his comrades. Hopefully they received the same training he had, and it seemed they did. Part of the squad, four of which had square shields, charged forward. Once they reached the wall two knelt and raised their shields. Two more lines behind them kneeling lowers, creating a small stair case. In a sprint William stepped on the human stair case as he ascended over the wall, landing not far from Red. Hopefully more would follow him. |
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Katherine's Approval
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| Onime No Ryu | September 15, 2012, 9:00 am Post #64 |
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I'll be your Undertaker this evening
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BROADBACK MOUNTAINS BARBARIAN CAMP Outriding force They were lucky that the northerners only had around a half dozen archers. Harding could see now that these recruits were still too fresh; if the barbarians had been a real enemy, with rank upon rank of archers and crossbowmen, the entire platoon would have been decimated by this ambush. As it was, only a few screams went up from the ranks...but still few too many, in Harding's eyes. "Move, move, don't let them get a clear shot!" the commander shouted as he turned towards the other side of the crags. Fewer arrows had come from that direction. Though Harding was a stockily built man, not one for speed, he moved faster than expected for a man wearing platemail and carrying a large mace and shield. His broad feet gave him a better purchase on the smooth slopes, with more gripping surface. His sheer strength allowed him to bull his way up without letting go of his weapons. He rammed through the wall as he reached the ledge--it was nothing but loose rocks stacked one atop the other after all--and an arrow fired point blank rang off his shield just before his mace crushed the archer's skull. Another of the few notherners on this side dropped as a return arrow from one of the soldiers punched a hole through his skull. The third came running at Harding, raining down blows with a sturdy axe. The knight's shield took each blow with a resounding gong and drove him back along the ledge, but Harding simply waited. After another barrage the knight let his shield arm move aside with the axe's arc. The northerner thought he had a chance and raised the weapon high for a finishing blow, only to feel Harding's broad shoulders slam into his chest. As he fell back the knight advanced, raising his shield to ward off what was left of the blow and crushing the man's ribs to pulp with his club. The northerner gasped and his knees buckled, but a second blow ended him before he hit the ground. Trent had watched in shock as arrows rained down around him, but his body took over and he headed for the wall, zig zagging like he'd been told. The first man up and over on this side was that strange fellow who carried no sword, just a big pair of gauntlets with spikes. Then the others formed a shield stair and another man went over. But Trent was too far into the crags now, still running haphazardly--how could he get up there? As his thoughts raced, the image of Red bounding up the slope stood side by side with that of the mountain goats he had seen. Something clicked. The cracks in the rocks, the tiny layers of stone that weren't stacked evenly...the way the animals stood, their body weight. A bright flash ignited in Trent's eyes. His glowing gaze locked upon the wall as he bounded up and slammed his shoulder and side against the rock. His feet somehow found purchase along a ledge that some might not even see there. Another bound to another ledge, and then another, and then he was up and over the wall and coming down and the northerner looked up and loosed an arrow-- The shaft whistled just under his arm, slicing through his tunic and the soft skin beneath but blowing past. He came down with all his weight behind the swing, turning his hips just like in the training. His blow came too high; instead of severing the man's head at the throat, the blade bit deep right into the side of his face, shattering the cheek bones. Blood and teeth flew as the weapon carved a canyon in the flesh, across the nose. One of the man's eyes drooped in the socket, its support from the face torn away. The cut shattered the spinal column and brain stem. Death was instant. But the sword couldn't get all the way through the thick skull, and stuck like an axe in a log. As the man's weight sagged it threatened to drag the weapon from Trent's hands. The boy tightened his grip and struggled to pull it free, chaos growing around him as the rest of the soldiers came over the walls. LOST ON THE PLAINS "That's a smart girl." said the leader as the bandits gathered up their loot. They were true to their word, at least, and left Jeremus with half of his goods. Another man appeared from the woods, leading two mules that looked more fit for fieldwork than for carrying any kind of burden. Still, between them, the leader's horse, and Allison's stolen one, the bandits soon had all their gain saddled up. As they disappeared into the forest the leader lingered for a bit, holding up Allison's sword in its scabbard. "Do you want this back, my lady?" he shouted, holding it out. Then he smiled and slung the belt, sword still strapped to it, over his back. "Then come to Westbridge, to the Bighorn Inn!" And with that the man rode away, leaving the two to stand there in the rain and curse their luck. Edited by Onime No Ryu, September 15, 2012, 9:00 am.
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| Perascamin | September 15, 2012, 9:46 am Post #65 |
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A Legendary Ocean
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Broadback Mountains The very idea of mounting a horse again made Austin smile as the squad trotted through the mountains to the Northern's base of operations. It was a shame though, that the last time he rode a horse was for war, and it was for the same reason now. When commanded, the soldier dismounted somewhat reluctantly and readied himself, strapping his shield in a quick, practiced motion. An uneasy feeling came to him as they looked at the unnatural walls and in almost perfect unison Austin maneuvered his back behind a large rock and raised his shield in front of him, effectively blocking any arrows coming towards him. Running to the wall to form the staircase he ended up being the first step which meant he got to go up next. Then, he helped soldiers up the wall with the help of a second man. |
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In War; Victory. In Peace; Vigilance. In Death; Sacrifice. Dawn Eros (hot mama): Spoiler: click to toggle | |
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| Kazemitsu | September 15, 2012, 10:31 am Post #66 |
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Assassin
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Broadback Mountains Drogo's eyes narrowed with anger. The soldiers...aside from a few of them...they were green. That was an insult, sending so few veterans. "Cut them down and mount their heads on pikes!" He growled as the archers next to him continued to fire at the men on the ground. While they were doing that Drogo kicked down the wall nearby, sending the loose boulders hurtling down to the soldiers. Surprisingly one got up on his side of the little gully and took out one of the archers. "Guard the archers, I'll handle this whelp." He rumbled to the other northerners around him. Six melee guarding three archers, who had by now backed off a little to get better shots. Drogo started circling around Red, his cleaver and knife gleamed in the morning light. His movements were oddly enough like an animals, cautious yet each had a purpose. Without any warning he launched himself at the fist fighter, leading with his knife while keeping the cleaver back for more debilitating strikes. Right now he was just sizing his opponent up. Meanwhile two men detached from the six and double teamed on William. One wielding an axe and what looked like a section of log for a shield, while the other was wielding two curved shortswords. The axe wielding came rushing in from the front while the sword wielder circled around and looked for an opening. It seemed each northerner fought a different way. The remaining three melee attackers launched themselves at Trent, each wielding a club ranging from spiked to smooth. These three apparently came from the same clan judging by their markings, clothing, and weapons. Each archer was taking pot-shots, one on Red, one on William, and the last one on Trent. They were also looking around for more people to shoot. On the other side of the gully the scoutmaster engaged with Harding. His rather broad shamshir practically glowed in the mornings light. the hardened warrior looked impassively at the stouter man before lashing out with lightning quick blows towards thick mans legs and face. He was intending on not letting the guy get an opening like his underling had done. The rest of the group engaged with the other soldiers up on the ledge and down in the gully. The dark skinned men were surprisingly vicious to the greenhorns while the veterans would have experienced this already. |
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| NTNP | September 15, 2012, 10:40 am Post #67 |
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Admin
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Silvis Family; Dion Open Ocean As his father stayed below deck, still nursing his stomach and painting the walls as green as ever, Dion wandered around peering into the distance or watching the dolphins with an odd sense of boredom. Truth be told, there really wasn't much to do on a ship full of old men and salt drenched sailors. Nothing to drink, no one to see and very little to do other than attend pointless meetings that always seemed to end up with Owen's self righteousness overpowering the room followed by a faint glare from dad before he excused himself again. Honestly, how Rhys could even stand that self righteous prick was anyone's guess. When Owen announced his desire to spar though, a somewhat fiendish smile raced across the young man's face. While right off hand he didn't know what exactly the pompous ass intended for them to do, any chance to break that smug bastard's nose in an "honorable" way was a chance he couldn't pass up. God knew that dad would be pissed if he just went out and clocked him once square in the nose for no reason but hey, training accidents do occur right? Slowly the young adjunct knight made his way across deck still bearing that impish grin. "Sir Owen, I wouldn't mind letting off a little steam. What do you have in mind?" Edited by NTNP, September 15, 2012, 10:41 am.
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| Matttheman89 | September 15, 2012, 10:45 am Post #68 |
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Assassin
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Ocean Tyrion listened to Owen's words as the others filed out of the room, and blinked in surprise at what the Senior Knight was suggesting. Though as he thought about it, he realized he had been having the same thoughts about Carth himself. He seemed like the kind of man who would sacrifice just about anything to get what he wanted. He certainly didn't seem to put much stock into the lives of the common folk, either. "Yes. You're probably right. I'll watch Sir Carth to make sure he doesn't do anything too...drastic." Tyrion replied with a nod of his head as Owen turned to leave. When Owen gave him one last warning not to repeat the words of their conversation though, he paused. Had he really seen what he thought he'd just seen? Or had that been some sort of...trick of the light? No...he didn't think so. "R-right." he said as Owen actually left this time. Hadn't he actually seen an aura like that before? He felt like he might have once or twice during the War... Shrugging his shoulders, Tyrion was the last to leave the room. -- Tyrion turned his head away from the Ocean he'd been watching when Owen asked for a sparring match on the deck of their ship a few days later. To tell the truth, he'd been getting extremely bored on this trip with nothing to do. He felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn't find something to do, and fast. So getting some physical exercise might help allievate the boredom. Besides, Sir Owen was supposed to be one of the strongest warriors in the Kingdom, he wanted to see how he stacked up. But before he could accept the challange, Dion beat him to the punch. Judging from the look on his face, he was looking for a chance to cause some mischief. Perhaps Carth wasn't the only one getting annoyed from the regular meetings they'd been having since setting out. Sighing at the missed chance to do something fun, Tyrion leaned against the railing and folded his arms over his chest. He'd just have to watch, instead. |
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| The Best | September 15, 2012, 11:14 am Post #69 |
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Scout
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Red BROADBACK MOUNTAINS ~ Barbarian Camp As the wild man approached him, Red made sure to be constantly aware of his surroundings. Around him, small battles were taking place between the barbarian fighters and a few of the braver soldiers amongst Harding's ranks. One young man cleaved a man's head in two, and was now going head to head with three different men at once. Red had problems of his own though. In one hand, his opponent held a small bone knife, and in the other, a sizable cleaver. His cautious approach told the young islander that this savage was no novice; his feral movements, the cold look in his eye... No, this was a man who had known battle, lived it. Turning his torso slightly to the side, the pugilist extended his hands out in front of him. Both palms were open, facing Drogo. Though his eyes never left the barbarian, Red made sure to keep the archers in his peripherals, timing their shots. When Drogo stepped in to strike, Red was already in motion. The man's foot darted out, knocking his opponent's own foot slightly to the side just as he put his weight on his front leg. Essentially, Drogo's feet were slightly closer together than he had originally intended for them to be, and this would throw him slightly off balance. One of Red's palms shot out and connected with Drogo's shoulder, halting his attack with the bone knife dead in its tracks. In the same motion, the fist fighter swung his other hand towards Drogo's cleaver, connecting with the flat of the blade and leaving his opponent's chest and face exposed, if only for an instant. Planting both feet, Red brought his forehead rushing towards Drogo's face, ideally breaking his nose, or at the very least, stunning him. If the barbarian tried to lean back too much, he would find his weight unevenly distributed in his awkward stance. thwip Red's eyes widened as his face neared Drogo's own, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Since his hands were still close to his foe's body from the two small strikes he had just made, it was a simple matter for the islander to latch on to Drogo's garments, quickly bringing his foot back and spinning the stocky man around to bring him between Red and the archer. This would be made far easier due to the fact that Drogo's footing was already bad, and he had likely been severely distracted by the head that had almost broken his nose. If Drogo didn't want an arrow from his own archer to hit him in the back, he would have to think, and think fast. |
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| Perascamin | September 15, 2012, 11:57 am Post #70 |
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A Legendary Ocean
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Broadback Mountains The Assault By now, every soldier had been able to get up the wall and join the fray. However, they didn't plan on scattering and making unorganized, frantic attacks. It had taken six shields to scale the wall, this meant that six soldiers were now available. They would do the only logical thing now, in pairs of two they would rush a combatant--engaging them by lashing out with the shield while the other strafed around to their flank and delivered a final blow if needed. History wouldn't recall a failed frontal assault, this was only a common tactic given the terrain. This also helped soldiers call out to each other, if an enemy was rushing their ally from behind. With one of the newer recruits, Austin took the charge against one of the many barbarians and lashed out with his shield, easily causing the man to stagger and stumble to the ground. Not a second too late, his partner plunged his own lance into the man's chest, using his foot to pry it out with leverage. Blood sprayed on the both of them, and while the newer recruit might look a little bit in shock, the veteran called out to him "Behind you!" The greener soldier called the same, and they both fell into a defensive stance behind their shields while they turned, blocking the attack. They both lunged with their lances, stabbing deep somewhere into the torso. Austin rose to his feet as he looked on at the man without changing his cold expression. It looked as if the raider was ready to swing his crude sword at him, but obviously couldn't as his arm stood suspended in the overhead swing--He couldn't move from shock. Kicking the man off of his spear, the impaler drew back his spear as his victim fell to the ground, plunging it into his face; using leverage to shatter the skull and easily release it. |
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In War; Victory. In Peace; Vigilance. In Death; Sacrifice. Dawn Eros (hot mama): Spoiler: click to toggle | |
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| Pontiac1532 | September 15, 2012, 2:39 pm Post #71 |
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Allison Noir Lost Allison scowled at the leader's departing comment. Westbridge was a long, month long hike through dangerous terrain and she didn't fancy the thought of dragging Jeremus through the mountains. She knew he would only slow down. Apparently, he knew much of the same. "Allison, I'm really very sorry. When we get to Kingsport, I'll buy you a new horse and new weapons for your journey." Allison turned to look at him, somewhat surprised. "You don't even want to come?" Jeremus shook his head even before she had finished speaking. "I would only slow you down, my dear. Besides, I think I know where we are now. We're less than a day's walk from Kingsport. If you ride in the wagon with me, we could be there by tommorow afternoon." Allison nodded, and swung herself up into the wagon. As Jeremus hoisted himself up after her, she seized the reins. "This time, I'm driving. And we're not stopping until we get there." Jeremus nodded, and the two set off for Kingsport. |
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| Onime No Ryu | September 15, 2012, 6:10 pm Post #72 |
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I'll be your Undertaker this evening
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BROADBACK MOUNTAINS BARBARIAN CAMP Outriding force With a heave of adrenaline, Trent stepped back and drew his sword up, still dragging the body on its end. The first club strike dislodged the corpse with a squelch, and as his fleshy shield fell away Trent jumped like a scared cat, putting distance between himself and his attackers. Off to the side he saw a small group of spearmen fighting together, and hurried towards them. Another arrow whistled past his back, sending a cold prickle up the hairs of his neck. Then he felt burly fingers brush against his collar. Instead of trying to put on another burst of speed Trent turned his shoulder and lunged backward. The pauldon on his left arm clanged hard against the pursuer's chin. This northerner had been faster, his two companions were still a few yards behind. As he stumbled back, stunned, Trent shouted out and used the same motions he'd seen the spearmen use. His blade's tip drove deep into the man's belly. The barbarian's eyes went wide and his knees started to sag. Trent kicked him away, drawing the blade out with a squelch before he ran once again towards the spearmen, the other two still hot on his heels. "Could use some help here!" he called to the formation. He must have been quite a sight, considering his first opponent's blood had spattered over one side of his face and in his hair and the second man's gut wound had left his hands covered in the sticky crimson. On the other side of the pass Harding circled with his opponent, the shamshir's edge ringing off his shield again and again. A few times it got past the man's defense, but instead scraped and squealed against armor. This northman wasn't going to be fooled like the last one. When the next volley came Harding pushed forward instead of retreating, slamming his shield against the edge of the blade and pushing. The northman felt his balance shift and jumped back just in time to escape the swing of that bloodied mace. He came back right after hoping to catch Harding in the opening, but the big man turned and let the tip of the blade score a bright white line across his chestplate, making another counter swing. Again the northman dodged backwards and Harding pressed him with the shield. If he could get him to keep backing up his opponent would soon stumble over the edge--and the northman realized the ploy too. So instead when Harding made his next swing the northman jumped to the side. And just according to plan, he tripped over one of the other bodies strewn over the ledge. Harding had faked his intentions and outmanuvered the man. The northerner rolled backwards and came up in a crouch, raising his shamshir to block that mace--only for a booted foot to come up instead, crashing into his chest and slamming him against an outcrop of rock. The man struggled to raise his sword again, just as Harding painted the rock with his brains. OCEAN GULF "Just a regular spar, young Dion. Of course we'll have to keep it in the center of the deck here so we don't bother the crew. Do you prefer a staff or a blade?" The Knight offered Dion two different lengths of soft wood the same as his own. "We'll go easy on each other, eh? Just call for a break if you need one and I'll do the same." Once Dion chose his weapon, the other knight took a few steps back and made ready. "Come at me then, lad! It'll be a good experience for you!" |
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| NTNP | September 15, 2012, 6:34 pm Post #73 |
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Admin
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Dion's games: Open Ocean "Hmm, I'll take both thanks." Quickly Dion prepared himself for the lecture by slipping the mid length stick into his belt. It was slanted sideways, much like a particularly ornate looking dagger just below it. Admittedly it might be possible to get the two mixed up, but poisoning an ally with snake venom would be something a little too much for any particular slight. Realizing the danger of it, the young knight quickly pulled the blade out scabbard and all. He walked over to Tyrion, obviously intending to watch this little scene and gave the poisoned dagger to him. "Hey buddy, would you mind holding this for me? I'll be honest, you really shouldn't mess with it too much and don't flip it around or anything. And if it starts dripping just, put it on the ground or go downstairs and get- better yet just yell at me and I'll come get it alright?" With that bit of obvious, yet highly important foreshadowing completed along with a sizeable bit of exposition completed Dion returned to the task at hand. The longer stick was sorta like a spear, it was a pretty good option for this. It was a bit heavier and bulkier than his bow, less smooth as well. But it would do until things got interesting. As an impish smile raced over the young man's face he shifted into a battle stance. The young man was turned sideways keeping the staff lengthed stick in front of him. With something like this it wouldn't matter given his relative inexperience with the thing compared to the "holy lance" but it would provide him a good chance to win over the windbag's sympathy and pity. Knowing full well he was most likely about to get hit on the top of the head or on the hip, Dion darted forward and then thrusted the stick straight toward Owen's stomach. His entire body was tensed up, if on the off chance that it did hit then he would be dumb founded. But if it was sidestepped or knocked away, then at least he would be ready for the counter and hopefully what would come next. |
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| Onime No Ryu | September 15, 2012, 8:12 pm Post #74 |
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I'll be your Undertaker this evening
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OCEAN GULF Owen tapped the tip of Dion's staff with his own, pinning it against the floor of the deck for just a moment before flicking it up the length of the haft and stopping it just under Dion's chin. "When you tense up like that, hits don't hurt as much but you become very slow." the elder knight explained, stepping back and withdrawing his weapon. "Stay loose, and instead of trying to withstand a blow, avoid it." Owen demonstrated, suddenly jabbing right at Dion's chest. As the boy brought his own stick up to defend himself, the sparring weapons barely touched before Owen had withdrawn, and he was already moving away with the grace of a dancer. "Strike and move, move and strike, young Dion! Come at me again!" |
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| NTNP | September 15, 2012, 9:12 pm Post #75 |
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Admin
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Dion's games: Open Ocean Turn and use the staff as leverage. A small sack says I could break these damn sticks with a good elbow thrust... but then he'll catch on and I wont be able to clock him. While usually people always thought that Dion was rather enthusiastic and short sighted, anything was the truth. If there was one thing that Carth had taught them all, the Prince included, it was the importance of planning and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It wont hurt to play along. He wont really take a real swing for a while, he doesn't have the vicious side like Rhys does. Pathetic little self-righteous son of a... Yet all the while, Dion maintained that same impish grin as before although he almost visibly showed signs of confusion and ineptitude. It was downright convincing, except that someone that really knew him would probably be able to tell his game. Hopefully Owen wouldn't pick up on it, otherwise it wouldn't be anywhere near as fun when the big reveal came. Slowly and almost clumsy Dion staggered forward and to the side, just in time to get poked ever so slightly in the chest. It stung a little but it was a needed sacrifice. Now both of the knights were within the max range of the sticks, making it almost impossible to use a thrust without resorting to trying to back up. Of course, that didn't mean that the younger man couldn't just turn his staff sideways and give a diagonal slash like motion. If the tactic worked then the side of the stick would connect right underneath his ribs. It would be a mere glancing blow. The attack didn't have all that much might behind it, more meant to just surprise than anything else... |
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12:29 PM Jul 11