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Post by Lilycat on Feb 19, 2015 11:11:35 GMT
Kimiko started walking around the village to get a better look at things, trying to find who was in charge and if they could spare some supplies so she could move on.
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Post by The Glass Ninja on Feb 21, 2015 18:53:07 GMT
Vaul, his first slaked, cast off the thin blankets they had covered him with. His arm ached as he pushed off of the pallet, finding his balance slowly. The young woman who had been told to aid him tried to keep him down, but the warrior was insistent. "Archbishop!" He shouted after the woman who had just left him "Archbishop wait!" He stumbled forward, blood falling in small drops from his unbound arm. Whispers arose from soldiers around him as he caught up with the holy woman "Its him, the one who..." "He killed the beast" "Ulfskar-slayer!" Vaul ignored it, reaching out with his good right hand to touch the Archbishop's shoulder. "I saw...something wonderful" He whispered to her, lowering his head conspiratorially. The pain in his arm barely registered - he had to speak.
"My lady, I saw an Angelic woman, who spoke to me. What she said I cannot say, but beyond doubt was she a messenger of the gods. They have not abandoned us!" Any who knew Vaul, knew him as ambivalent about the gods. For him to be babbling about an angel meant much. He sighed once he'd managed to speak, allowing the girl set to bind his wounds to lead him back to his pallet, where she quickly and efficiently bound - though it didn't take long for the white linen to be stained red with his blood.
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Post by Lord Harrab on Feb 22, 2015 4:03:28 GMT
As Vaul spoke Justinina took his uninjured hand between both of hers and her eyes shone with excitement and joy, "I always knew it to be so." she said calmly, but the grip of her hands tightened, "your heroic slaying of a Champion of Darkness must have given the Gods the the Strength to break through to us for a single shining moment." She sent him back to his cot and quickly set her assistants to aiding the other wounded, then to vaul's surprise she knelt beside him again, this time with ink, paper and a quill. Justina, placed a hand on his and seeing the blood seeking into his bandages, set another of her group to changing them. "Now noble warrior, i must insist you tell me everything you remember, every feeling, every sound, leave nothing out, no matter how trivial it seems. We must know what the Gods Wish of us and this vision must be recorded." Her hand squeezed his again. "Please."
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Post by Warork on Feb 23, 2015 3:35:35 GMT
A lone figure in a dark green cloak entered the village long after the battle had been over. Over his shoulder he carried a litter of six plump rabbits held by their legs and on his belt were hung two fat ducks which represented his contribution to the continued survival of the town's defense...at least for today. Beside him walked the biggest dog anyone this side of the Greenwood had yet seen; all black and grey of fur and panting in deep, ragged breaths with its pink tongue lolling out to one side of its mouth as it walked alongside its master.
"The damn horseborn really did a number on the town, eh boy?" The cloaked figure said, adjusting the longbow slung on his back. The dog gave no reply but looked up at his master as he spoke, its large ears up and alert for any strange sounds.
The two passed slowly burning fires and small groups of armed men tiredly attempting to shore up the village's defenses. This included a few who were busying themselves burying the dead from the battle upon an empty hillside that the two passed. The figure silently wondered to himself where the horseborn were being buried...probably in a pile...or maybe they were burning those bodies, it hardly mattered.
The two finally made it to a small camping area that the soldiers of the town had main between many of the huts in the village. Several of them were sitting around wherever a comfortable seat could be found sharing stories, jokes, and doing whatever it was men do to get rid of the post battle jitters. One of the soldiers was seated by a stove fire where he was stirring a large cauldron of some sort of stew with a wooden spoon. It steamed gently in the dying light of the day and the approaching cloaked figure could feel the heat of the fire even several meters away as he approached. The soldier at the cauldron turned as he got closer and smiled.
"Jon fookin Redwyn!" He exclaimed "Where the hell have you been?"
"Not here getting my ass skewered, that's where!" The cloaked man answered with a snort.
"Always the smart one, eh?" The soldier replied in a mocking tone.
"Smarter than you, Rodrik." Jon said pulling the cowl of his hood down, he revealed a pale face marked by a bright scar along his right cheek where an orc arrow had come a little too close for comfort. His jawline was covered in dark, scruffy bristles which evidenced that he hadn't had a chance to shave in a while. "But look what I brought you." He said, slinging the litter of rabbits down next to the cauldron and doing the same for the ducks on his belt.
"These'll go nice in a stew." The soldier observed.
"Would have gotten three ducks but a damn wildcat got to the last one before Shadow could." Jon mused. The dog perked its head up at the sound of his own name being used.
"Is that so?" Rodrik asked as he reached for the dead animals. Jon swatted away his hand suddenly.
"Ah ah now. Those are for trade; my catch for that wineskin of yours." He said pointing to the watersack on Rodrik's belt. The soldier turned cook frowned but handed over the skin to Jon who drank from it greedily.
"Always the cheeky one, eh Jon?" Rodrik asked as he examined the rabbits.
"Yeah, you know you wouldn't have it any other way." Jon said with an ease of familiarity. He leaned over and fished a ham bone floating in the stew in the cauldron and threw it to his dog who caught it neatly and followed his master.
A few minutes later, the Sythin ranger named Jon Redwyn was sitting in an open yard with his back to a hut that hadn't been burned down in the fight, facing the sun. Next to him were another two soldiers and Shadow who was laying on the ground, gnawing on his ham bone.
"I'm telling you, it was the little mother herself!" One of the soldiers was saying as Jon faded in and out of listening to them.
"Is it really that dire then?" The other asked.
"No, she was asking some poor bastard who got gimped in the battle what he saw. In a dream or something."
"You were walking by the tent you said?"
"Yeah. I took a closer look, it was the same man who slew Ulfskar!"
"What?!"
"He was talking about having a dream about the gods to the little mother herself!"
The two stopped suddenly as Jon snickered.
"What's so funny?" One of them asked.
"How much blood did you see?" He asked lowly, tipping the wineskin back to drink more of its contents.
"Well he had a gaping leg wound like I said." The soldier continued, he stopped when Jon spat a wad of red tinted phlegm.
"Fookin clerics, they're all the same. After a battle they descend on the wounded like vultures and write down all the words of dying and pain crazed men in their final moments. They take those men's final words and rant and rave in the squares about how the gods havent abandoned us..."
He spat again.
"Fookin disgrace is what it is." The two soldiers looked at each other, unsure. Before they could reply, Jon had risen to his feet and grabbed his bow which was leaning against the wall next to him. It was nearly as tall as he was.
"Where are you off to then?" one of the soldiers asked.
"I'm goin to go see if the grave diggers need any help."
"Since when have you been the charitable type?" One of the soldiers asked, chuckling.
"I'm not, but dead men have nice shiny trinkets in their pockets for the taking. C'mon Shadow." He beckoned to the dog. The canine companion followed his cloaked master as the two soldiers looked on.
"Odius shit aint he?" One asked the other.
"He's got a point though."
"What's that?"
"Dead men do have lots of nice things that they don't need any more." The two men looked at each other, shrugged, and got to their feet to go find their own trinkets.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2015 3:06:52 GMT
Player Event: LilycatA group of Militia approached Kimiko, "You're from the fort aren't you? The Lieutenant will want to speak to you immediately." The fighters led her to a partially burned tavern, the charred sign illegible. Inside a collection of Silver Guard officers, Militia captains and other people of importance were gathered around the bar. From the tattered lion still visible on his tabard she recognized one of the senior officers as Lieutenant Arthus Dran, "The Lion" was a legend among the ranks of the Silver Guard. She could see he had been wounded as he stood to greet her, "Welcome Ma'am." He said simply. "What is the meaning of this interruption?" Demanded a scarred Militia officer. "She's from the fort sir." One of the fighters said nervously, "We thought you all would want to speak to her immediately." "Calm yourself Darius." Lieutenant Dran cautioned. "You did the right thing by bringing her here, go get yourselves some food." After the men had gone he turned his attention to Kimiko, "What is your name soldier?" She snapped to a salute as she replied, "Kimiko Akemi, Sergeant of the 3rd Company, Fort Kyra." "At ease Sergeant." The Lieutenant said. "Akemi?" The man named Darius spoke up, "I've heard of this one, they say she's as good as you Dran." "That is irrelevant." Lieutenant Dran replied, "Sergeant Akemi," He addressed her, "What can you tell us about the fort? Do you know what happened? Did others make it out?"
Player Event: WarorkJon and his fellows made their way to where the bodies of fallen warriors were being buried, a member of the clergy was saying prayers for the dead. A dozen men armed with shovels were taking turns digging holes and stacking the bodies. A pair of Initiates were picking over the bodies of the fallen, removing armor and trinkets and placing them in the care of a squad of Silver Guard keeping watch over the area. As they neared one of the soldiers beckoned to them, "No looting boys." He said, "Grab some shovels if you want to make yourselves useful.
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Post by Warork on Feb 24, 2015 4:29:10 GMT
As the three turned the last corner of a hut that bordered the field where the bodies of the soldiers were to be buried, Jon found himself wondering if him and his compatriots would have to compete with--
He stopped when he saw the field already inhabited by robed clergymen and members of the Silver Guard. Damn it all, he thought, the damn God botherers have beaten us to it.
"No looting boys." On of the guardsmen said. Of course he did. "Grab some shovels if you want to make yourselves useful."
The two soldiers with Jon grumbled but started forwards to lend their arms and backs to the purpose of digging graves. One of them looked back to Jon who hadn't moved and had crossed his arms.
"Coming then?" The man asked.
"What? To dig holes? I'm a ranger, I put arrows in horse freak and orc faces. Dig your own damn graves." He grunted. Spitting another wad of phlem on the ground near his feet, he turned around, Shadow at his heels, and marched back into the gloom of the village, muttering angrily about the clergy all the way.
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Post by Nepty on Feb 24, 2015 4:48:07 GMT
Sigard hummed a little song to himself as he ran the cloth over his axe. The Horseborn were never his favorite foe. Their thick bones nicked good steel. Thankfully his axe was free of damage after the engagement though. Sigard was seated atop the equestrian corpse of one of the creatures. It's head was crooked at an unnatural angle, and it's open body steamed in the cold morning. When he was satisfied that his axe had escaped unharmed, he slid it back over his shoulder and stood. A fight always gave a him a good hunger. To his left, someone was being sick by the side of the path, and a dog ran up to lap the vomit. He shooed it away with a kick and soon enough, found himself some food. A grateful furrier who was more than willing to give a hungry soldier some bread and cheese and a mug of ale to drink. When he was done, he stepped back outside and looked around. He heard pitiful neighs and bellows coming from around the house. Suspicious, sigard went to look.
A young man was trying to approach one of the horseborn, which was lying on the ground, belly open, howling. The man wore the robes of a healer. Sigard strode up to him. "What are you doing?" he asked. The healer, flustered, shook his hands. "He won't hold still. I'm trying to tie up his leg."
Sigard looked at the creature for a moment. "Stand her," he said, not unkindly. Then he knelt down and, sidestepping the flailing legs, reached out to the creature. He had been taught how to mend wounds in the mountains. The creature struggled, and the alien eyes looked up at him with rage. "Stay away, man-creature!" moaned the horseborn through it's pain.
"Relax." he said. It kept struggling. "Hold still damn you, I'm trying to help." Finally he had to physically restrain it. He grabbed it by the head-hair, jerked it's head back and shoved his knife into the exposed throat. The creature gurgled itself to death for a moment then fell silent.
The healer looked on in horror. "You killed him!" "Of course I killed it," said Sigard shortly. "I'd hope someone would do the same for me were I in that state."
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Post by Lilycat on Feb 24, 2015 5:10:56 GMT
"I'm unaware of any other survivors sadly, I was ordered by Captain Miar to retreat as the defensive line I was on started to break and swiftly did so with a few under me. Though I wished to stay... We were separated as a wall was breached and our path to each other was blocked off. If others did survive they should be making their way here." replied Kimiko.
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Post by Nepty on Feb 24, 2015 5:36:22 GMT
The horseborn were also perhaps his least favorite foes because the damned things lived in some manner of self-imposed poorness. The creatures had no pockets or goods beyond what trinkets they wore in their hair.
That's why sigard left the horseborn to be thrown onto pyres while he went through the belongings of the town's fallen defenders. Others were doing the same. Usable mail shirts were pulled off of bleeding bodies and here and there a savlagable helmet was being claimed. Sigard saw a cloaked ranger going to work in a corpse's mouth with a pair of pliers. That was the mark of a seasoned campaigner. There's good money to be made in gold teeth.
Sigard went for the bodies, and was in luck. Necklaces were always the first things to go. torn from around their comrade's necks soon after the fighting. This body was no different. There was some cuts on his neck where someone had evidently just pulled until the chain snapped. He knelt on one knee and drew his dagger again. Off came the ring fingers, and into his pouch went the rings. When he cut open the soles of the boots on the third corpse he searched, he found a good gold coin. At one point he saw a gold tooth but he didn't want to get out his pliers, so he just cut it straight out of the man's gums.
Within the hour, he'd taken five rings, a necklace, a gold tooth, some twelve gold coins, double that in silver and more than a hundred coppers he'd trade in for gold at the town commissary. It was a soldier's habit. Gold kept and was easier to carry on campaign as it came in smaller amounts. He'd also got a few other trinkets and a pair of mail byrnies, as well as a halfhelm and pair of leggings and gloves from one of the dead silver guard. Someone else had made off with the man's chain hauberk.
He found Bard sitting by a fire with some of the other soldiers towards midday. He was trying to convince them to join his depleted band of sellswords, and seemed to have gotten a few onboard. The big man had a few new cuts but he wore a shiny new mail hauberk and tabard, though the device had been cut out. Sigard had a sneaking suspicion that less than an hour ago the missing device had shown the sigil of the silver guard.
He turned as Sigard approached. "And there's Sigard boys!" he said. "A mountain-fellow," he said conspiratorially. He saw some appraising looks thrown his way. Apparently his kin had a reputation for ferocity. He sat down and snatched the wineskin out of bard's hands, then took off his helmet and shook his head. His dark hair was cropped to a short few inches, and he supposed his face would be streaked with sweat. He took a long draught from the wine, then made a face. "Gods be cursed Bard, where did you find this?" he demanded "This stuff must have been distilled when Gellart the Grave was a child."
"If you don't want it," threatened Bard. "I'll be having it back."
Sigard shot him the ghost of a sardonic smile. "It's not so bad as all that." He took another swig and immediately wished he hadn't. "It's worse," he concluded, and handed it back, amid appreciative laughter.
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Post by yumichi on Feb 24, 2015 18:45:02 GMT
Asra got up carefully. She was lucky, very lucky that she wasn't dead. Her chest was covered in bandages, she got hit with an axe. Luckily her armor, although it's a armour of padded cloth, could prevent more damage. The wound still hurted, but it wasn't severe. Even her armor isn't that damaged, she could fix that. Asra wasn't allowed to move around much, so she took a needle and thread from her pocket and started to sew her armour. There was one big tear in her padded clothes, but it was easily to repair. She looked around a bit, there were much people still knocked out or sleeping, the had much severe injuries and some of them were half-dead. Others were almost healed already. Suddenly a wounded guy stood up and ran after a bishop. Asra recognized that guy, he killed that boss of the horseborn. It was him who saved all the silver guards. If he didn't defeat that horseborn, they would've been all dead by now. Asra felt glad she was still alive and not even that badly wounded. She went on with repairing her armor.
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