Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Dec 30, 2009 14:55:20 GMT -6
Mavick had just stepped out in his new robes when he was assaulted by the rotting appendages. "Who did that!?" he demanded, looking up. Before he could properly locate and kill the offender, that annoying voice came up again. "Firstly, I'm upset at your blatant disregard for the whole practice. I couldn't care less about what happens to you." Mavick replied. "Secondly, the answers quite simple: You never asked. You just demanded and tried to use tricks to make me say I'd teach you in the midst of an argument." The diminutive shaman turned to face Morgoth. "And though I'm liking you less and less each moment you plague my existance, as a scholar, it is my duty to impart wisdom where it is asked, and since you asked, I'll tell you a little about Elder Magic." he stated. "Listen up, because I'm not going to say this twice. Elder Magic is the magic of Nothing. It was nothing, is nothing, and will always be nothing. It's power derives from that nothingness. To give this Nothing a form, one must invite the Nothing into their souls. However, should they over extend themselves, should they take on more than they can mentally and spiritually manage, they will be crushed by it. Their minds will be shattered, their souls lost to the void, and their bodies left as breathing clumps of flesh and bone with no sentience. When you use Elder Magic, you must respect it, and acknowledge that it is not your servant, it is your ally, and if provoked, will destroy you."
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Lyar
The "Before" years
[M:0]
Incapacitate? I thought you said DEcapitate!
Posts: 155
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Post by Lyar on Dec 30, 2009 15:01:35 GMT -6
At this point Lyar stepped out of a tent, wearing several pieces of Armor that had to be scavenged together from several different reject suits just so it would fit him, but nonetheless it's appearance was not tarnished by this fact. It seemed new and shiny...until Lyar tripped into mud pile. Getting up and wiping the aforementioned mud from his face, he continued on his way, unbelievably past his brother (in the middle of some boring lecture) without so much as a bearhug or a hi, and continued on, before sitting down on a rock, waiting for someone to play with him or something. He waved as Richter and his three buddies from before marched by, talking something about 'supply distribution' whatever that meant, as he began to doodle in the ground with handle of his axe, though whatever was being drawn was so terrible one could not tell if it was either a dog or a fisherman wrestling a bear with a top hat on...
...it was actually a bird.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Dec 30, 2009 18:56:07 GMT -6
OoC: Yeah. Not alot to say, but I don't wanna get left behind...
IC:"Yes, High Officer." He was right, it didn't matter how tired they were, the civilians had been put through a terrible ordeal. It was their city that was now burning again, once more reminding them of the nightmare of only a short time before.
Clair followed along behind her Commander as they started walking. "Welcome to the Inquisitorial Army, Aleth."
She absently noticed that huge, blue haired man, doodling with his axe. He's drawing a Mountain? He was wearing new armor.
The Commander seemed to be gathering more and more people to him. The purpose that he strove for was growing closer all the time. A world where the strong looked out for those on faltering legs. Protecting the weak.
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Post by Richter Abend on Dec 31, 2009 1:18:12 GMT -6
When they arrived, Richter saw that the quartermaster's tent was a mess. Outside were piles and piles of boxes, weapons, and other assorted objects strewn about the ground. Some crates were tipped on their side, spilling their contents all over the grass and dirt. Everything was a bit ashen and charred, but still seemed largely usable. The soldiers who brought everything here were in quite the haste, so it was understandable. Still, it would take a bit of work getting everything organized.
Richter ducked under the doorflap and entered the tent. The quartermaster was inside, covered in papers and tossing weapons about. The man stopped what he was doing and looked to see who had entered, and exasperated look on his face. "Oh, High Officer, it's good to see you!" he said, walking over. Richter looked around. "You look a bit unorganized," he said calmly. "Everything's a bit of a mess." The quartermaster threw out his arms. "Can you blame me? I lost half of my supplies to the fire and the rest are still getting brought in," the frazzled man half-shouted. "I've got a bunch of soldiers out back helping me move crates and organize supplies, but I'm going to need some time to get the paperwork done...There's just so much to do!"
Richter held up his hand to stop the man before he ranted any further. "Don't worry. I'll take charge of the soldiers, but I'll need them to help distribute the supplies," he said. The man shrugged. "You don't need to worry about what I think," the quartermaster replied, "You're the superior officer. As long as I get some time to re-inventory and reorganize the paperwork, I'm good, sir." Nodding, Richter pointed to Aleth. "While you're at it, I'm going to need a uniform for her," he stated. The man nodded. "Alright, I'll just need to measure her," he said, gesturing for Aleth to come over. "We should have the right size. We managed to salvage most, if not all, of the uniforms."
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Morgoth Animus
Shaman
DEAD
"Save the world? You know not what you say."
Posts: 155
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Post by Morgoth Animus on Dec 31, 2009 18:09:00 GMT -6
Wow... that sounds like it will hurt. Morgoth thought. "So if I ask you, could you train me a little or all the way? Or perhaps tell me where I could find someone to train me?" I hate this...
OoC: Lame post
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Aleth
Hero
Everything you can do I can do one handed!
Posts: 247
Profession: NEET
Affinity: Ice
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Post by Aleth on Jan 1, 2010 16:16:23 GMT -6
Aleth followed the quartermaster out of sheer orders. If she had her way, she wouldn't change a thing about her uniform. Yet its the same, she was a soldier or at least a mercenary hired by an army. Changing uniforms were a life and death situation, seeing as how a battle can be confusing.
"I wonder is the army in such desperate need to hire a handicap?"
That phrase really ticked her off, but she remained quiet. This was something to be tolerated, especially later on. After the measurements and a few shuffling, her uniform was ready. It didn't take her long to change, which probably surprised the man a bit.
"This isn't too bad," she muttered, getting used to the feeling of different armor and clothing.
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Valorian
Sage
[M:-1030]
Where there is life, there is hope.
Posts: 484
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Post by Valorian on Jan 2, 2010 17:45:12 GMT -6
(If you were present for the Zombie attack, +100 EXP
No loot due to most of it being ransacked already)
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 2, 2010 20:46:38 GMT -6
OoC: Since the thread is going nowhere, I'm finishing up the night and time-skipping to the next morning. If anybody has any objections, then we'll do something about them.
The rest of the evening was filled with crate hauling and other manual tasks. After getting Aleth dressed for duty, Richter had gone around back to get the remaining supplies allocated to those who needed it. While Richter's task had been mainly targeted to the Inquisitional soldiers, he took some...personal liberties. It was obvious that the Ostian refugees needed the food and clothing much more then the soldiers did, but he couldn't just forget about the soldiers either. They were his men, and it was his duty to see that they were given what they needed. What had happened in Ostia this day was a tragedy in every extent of the word. Everyone was in need of some help. Wasn't their mission to save, and not to destroy? That's what The Herald had told him. Only time would tell if that was actually true.
The weapons were distributed normally, but the food, and everything else was rationed out. Yes, the soldiers would have to take a small cut in their meal size until they were resupplied, but these men were trained soldiers, and in war, prices must be paid.
After the distribution was done, Richter took a walk around the refugee camp. He ran into little girl he had saved earlier and her father, who thanked Richter profusely. The man had miraculously survived the initial attack on the walls after he was knocked unconscious by a falling rock from the battlements and fell into a pile of hay. He had awoken the next morning only to find himself in the midst of an undead horde. Needless to say, he made his way out of the city with the rest of the evacuees and found his daughter afterwords. "At least one thing good came out of this mess," Richter had thought.
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The next morning, Richter awoke suddenly with a splitting headache. Sitting up, he clutched his aching head in pain. It was as if everything that had just happened the day before was finally setting in all at once. They had arrived late to the battle. Ostia, the greatest city of Lycia and one of the greatest cities in Elibe, had become the world's largest butcher shop. Everyone was dead. Richter had failed. He couldn't save Ostia. Then...Richter paused, knowing it sounded impossible...then the dead became alive again. They rose up and attacked the survivors. Many died. Ostia was burnt to the ground. Amputated from the world like an infected limb.
Richter poked his head out of his tent. The camp was still asleep, covered in a thick fog. It was almost picturesque. One would have never thought of the horrors that had just occurred. Richter got dressed and stepped outside. The crunching of his boots on dew covered grass could be heard amidst the silence as he walked between the tents. The fog seemed almost dream-like. The camp was in a cloud, just like Richter's mind. It was all so surreal. Had any of it actually happened? The despondent High Officer looked towards Ostia, now reduced to a black, smoldering stain on the landscape. Yes, it had happened, and there was no going back.
Richter's feet eventually took him to The Herald's tent. He hadn't planned on coming so early, as the sun was still rising, but apparently his subconscious said now was the time. Saluting to the guard stationed outside, Richter broke the unreal silence of the morning. "Is The Herald awake?"
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Lyar
The "Before" years
[M:0]
Incapacitate? I thought you said DEcapitate!
Posts: 155
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Post by Lyar on Jan 2, 2010 21:04:05 GMT -6
Any doubts of Lyar's capabilities or usefulness quickly died once he was instructed by 'Commander Abend' to assisting lifting things. Being a strong man he went about his business hefting large loads and distributing what he had to, and once done he had dragged Mavick to the tent before sleeping infront of Mavick's cot like a guard dog. The midget magician was all the family had left anyways.
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The next morning came too early for most, exhausted by last nights...well...Lyar had no way to really describe it with his vocabulary, but nonetheless Lyar was his usual infinite supply of energy, as he leaped to his feet and burst out the tent with a bugle given to him by one of the guards. He was told to blow it in the morning for some reason...Lyar assumed it was a game, and so complied. The horn roared out throughout the camp, tired soldiers soon began getting out of their tents and going about their duties. Lyar's only duties were carrying things, blowing that horn, and beating things faces in, and so he sat down on a nice rock and began playing with the dew covered grass, before noticing some refugees amongst them in the camp, some of them were his friends. However their usual smiles seemed gone from their faces as they clung to their parents, some to a single parent, and some to just themselves: crying.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jan 3, 2010 18:54:03 GMT -6
The remainder of the night was spent doing a variety of things. Clair helped with shifting whatever she was able to move. There was plenty. In addition to the crates brought in, there were many smaller bags and packs that were there. After helping distribute the supplies that were rounded up, she was just plain exhausted. In fact, she was so tired that she had to be led back to her tent, lest she fall asleep on the way. - - - - - "HONNNNKKKK!!!!HONNKK!HONNKK!!HONNKK!!!" A horn was blaring through camp; she could hear it passing by her tent. Clair sat up in her cot fast enough that her blood all seemed to rush out of her head! She stopped when she got her bearings. She hadn't known whether they were under attack or what was going on, but she realized that it wasn't the battle alert quickly enough. She got up and started to pull her armor on. She might as well go and see how Corona was doing over with the other cavalry. She finished equipping, grabbed her lance, and walked out through the entrance, heading on her way.
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Post by Kynlis on Jan 3, 2010 20:08:04 GMT -6
A loud horn blaring through the camp heralded Kynlis' ascent to wakefulness. She had been helping Clair with the distributions last night, up until her shift for guard duty came up. The hunter then spent the next several hours into the late night/early morning making sure nothing was approaching the army. Honestly though, what would be stupid enough to approach an army of this size? Regardless, she performed her duties, then headed back to Clair and hers shared tent.
As said before, the horn merely started Kynlis on the path of wakefulness. By the time she was up and coherent, Clair was walking out, no doubt to visit Corona. This caused Kynlis to quickly jump up and hurriedly get ready. She threw on her clothes and buckled on her light armor before grabbing a brush and trying to control her hair. After putting it in it's customary pony tail and bundling it behind her head, she darted out of the tent, grabbing her bow and quiver on the way out, intent on making her way to where Corona had been "stabled."
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The Herald
Herald
Voice of the Heavens Tyrannical Mouthpiece
"PEACE THROUGH WAR."
Posts: 105
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Post by The Herald on Jan 5, 2010 13:21:01 GMT -6
(OoC; sorry for stalling the thread once again. I hate exams. That and I slept till two in the afternoon.)
A voice emerged from the insides of the tent.
"OF COURSE I AM." Richter was then ushered inside the large tent. It had several wooden structures in it that held maps of Elibe. Most of them had little flags put in them. There were all kinds of coloured flags and sometimes a letter was written on them. The tent had a large ceiling and could easily hold about 20 people and it was now half-ful. Inside were 4 bodyguards, the Herald, a few servants, a commander and Richter. The Herald hadn't shaved and his eyes, while still friendly, were sunk deep within his features. He looked awfully tired.
"THEY SAY THERE'S NO REST FOR THE WICKED, BUT I'M AFRAID THAT COUNTS FOR US TOO, YOUNG MASTER ABEND." The Herald was seated at a desk and was facing Richter. While talking he kept jotting stuff down, while the servants were busy sorting the papers and moving in and out the tent, probably delivering messages. The Heralds voice was hoarse and rasped when he spoke. It was also way quieter than other times. (OoC: yeah, I typed this out and then noticed I forgot the caps. That's my explanation. Whatevaaaa.)
"It is wise of you to come here High Officer Abend. I was expecting you. If you hadn't come yourself, you would've been summoned anyway." He kept writing stuff down and occasionally halted his writing when he came across a document that was hard to read. He finally looked up and showed a faint smile. "I'm afraid that things are a bit chaotic right now. But! I'll try to make things easier for you. I've had a report from one of the barricade officers, and it seems some of your men lack uniforms. That issue has been dealt with. I have been so kind to arrange a uniform for..." He pulled out a document and read "...Assisstant Officer Feldsky and the other men. A pegasus rider, mmh? A rare sight. We usually employ Bernese mercenaries for air support. She's welcome, of course. I hope you have tested her loyalty? Anyway." He picked out another document, "It seems your men's salary is due. Though this may sound cruel, it is actually very logical: salaries only get payed out after a major battle. Not only faith and manpower fuel this crusade. Sadly, gold is important too."
He signed a document, that was heavily ornamented with seals. It was a payment slip. Richter had to show this document to the treasury of the army. It was in the centre of the encampement and resembled a fort; it was made of wood and the chests, containing the gold, were buried deep within the earth. Only one chest was above the ground at all time. The payments were done by the clergy, since they were deemed to be the most trustful. So far, the Etrurian army prided itself with the fact that there has never been a day that gold had been stolen from the army's treasury. Fear was the main reason that noone had done it before.
"Now, Richter. The data gathered by some of the fine officers of this army show that you have lost half of your men..." The Herald just stated that fact and wasn't reprimanding Richter. He did seem sad about it. "But you've gained some too, I heared." There was a warning tone in that sentence. As if the Herald dissapproved that Richter hired just about anyone. "But, of course, it is very commendable what you've done in Ostia. You've shown that you are a true leader, loyal to our cause. You rallied the men and led them outside. You even saved some of the civilians...”
“This was a mistake, Richter. We didn't want to destroy this city, we wanted it to be the centre of the new wind that would sweep Elibe. An example to the other cities that the Prophet's teachings are just. That our goal is just. But then, those, those abominations showed up...” The Herald was calm, but he was saddened by the destruction of the mighty city. He then stood up and looked at Richter.
“The priests, they have showed me something Richter. Something that fuels my believes, my faith even more. The Prophet, he predicted this, he has seen this! In his struggle to save the Saint, he has seen these monsters. They were everywhere were the saint-slayers went. These heretics are the cause of these monstrosities. Wickedness is the cause of this! And all wickedness must be destroyed. I have not come so far, only to see our dreams shattered by these... things. It is clear that there were wicked elements in the city. These elements must be eradicated, because as long that wicked men walk the lands, these monsters will follow in their wake. I have given orders to the priests to find out whoever caused this. And everyone will be watched...” The Herald sighed. “How sad that such a wonderful city has been brought into darkness by wicked men.”
He sat down again and looked at Richter, as if he expected his support on the matter. He then changed the tone of his voice from inspired to bussines-like. “Now, Richter, this is far from over. Our goals are within reach and within a few years we shall unite mankind under a new rule. There will be peace. Weapons will be unnecessary and under the glorious eye of our saint and prophet, mankind will prosper once again. But a lot has to be done. We have decided to continue our message of peace in Sacae. You will be under direct command of this men here.” He pointed at the commander that stood a few feet away from the Herald. It was a large man, with brown hair.
“Your units will travel together with the units of two other High Officers and the units of this man. Meet High Commander Hugo Ariston. Your will take up your duties as Region Officer again, but you will keep your rank as High Officer. Your unit will be restored to it's full size and together with the other Region Officers you will travel to Salvation Point. The other High Officers will travel to their respective forts. The central fort will be the HQ of our operations in Sacae. You will report to this man. He is able, he is loyal and most of all, he is reliable. He is not mad.” The Herald smiled at that last bit as if he was apoligising to Richter. They all remembered what happened the previous time that the Herald had tried to team Abend up with a mad High Officer.
“Now Richter, I'm afraid our time is running out. I trust you. Don't ask me why, but I do. Do not fail me.” He stood up and walked towards Richter, embracing him lightly. He patted him on the shoulder and High Officer Abend once more saw the grief-struck, sleep-deprived face of his leader. The Herald seated himself and smiled. “Good luck, High Officer Richter. May the Prophet and the Saint be with you. May Peace find us.”
Outside the tent, High Commander Ariston gave a firm handshake to Richter Abend and saluted briefly but firmly. “I have heard good things about you, Richter. I hope at least a few of them weren't lies. Gather your men, get them in uniforms and pack up provisions. Meet the rest of the troops a few miles North of here. I'll see you there tomorrow.” He grinned briefly. “Yer going home, Abend.” He saluted once more and then walked away, his bodyguards and Assisstant Officers trailing behind him.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 5, 2010 20:00:28 GMT -6
As much as he demonized the Prophet, Richter's anger towards Etruria was always calmed when he spoke to the Herald. It was something about the old man's faith in their fight; his regretful attitude towards evil, and his forgiving attitude Richter. It must have been his faith in his cause, something Richter could never have.
Richter had nothing against faith. He himself believed in some sort of higher power, but the Prophet's teachings were filled with nothing but hypocrisy. Richter was always quick to point out flaws. Being cynical does that to you. However, being cynical also keeps you from taking everything at face value, which in this case, was a useful trait.
Despite the Herald's words of trust, the High Officer could tell that the old man was having qualms about Richter's position. He was essentially demoting Richter to Region Officer again. A title without responsibility was a title in name only. The reason why he was sending Richter back to a demolished fort was probably to get him out of the way. He wasn't surprised, however. After losing many of his men to the Sacaens, killing Yurau, and hiring a few unconventional people, the first being the only one Richter was ashamed of, this subtle demotion wasn't coming out of nowhere. The only reason Richter was keeping his rank was probably because of his efforts in the evacuation of Ostia. That or the Herald really did just get warm fuzzy feelings about Richter, which wasn't really a bad thing.
But the Herald did admit that what happened in Ostia was a mistake, which showed that he and Richter were at least partially on the same wavelength. That would probably help Richter in the future, though he knew he could never expect the Herald to ally with him when the time came; his faith in the Prophet was far too strong. Richter just hoped than when they did confront, they wouldn't have to do so directly. Richter would never be able to harm the old man.
Political intrigue aside, clearly there was a bigger threat than the Prophet upon the world now, something that deserved Richter's attention, and, despite the Herald's constant reassuring, probably the only thing that didn't keep Richter from going AWOL on the Inquisitional Army after the battle of Ostia: the undead. After all, there would be nothing to save from the Prophet if everyone was eaten by zombies.
The entire situation disturbed Richter. This kind of black magic reminded him far too much of the events in Etruria 5 years ago. He wouldn't be surprised if it had nothing to do with them, but he wouldn't be surprised if it had everything to do with them either. In any case, the Herald was right in trying to find the source of the evil, but his faith in the Prophet was misguided. There was no way the people he had escaped with from Etruria before would or even could wield that kind of power. If it was them, it would have been Etruria, and not Ostia that had been struck by dark magic. No, this was something different, Richter just wasn't sure what.
The Herald's speech being over and after confronting Ariston, Richter saluted back to the High Commander with a "yes sir". He seemed like a rational man. That at least meant he would be much easier to work with than a power crazed lunatic, no doubt, but by now Richter had grown suspicious of just about every high ranked officer in the Inquisitional Army. Despite that, the pink haired High Officer would have to make sure to put his best foot forward if he wanted to garner some trust back, though he would only be with the other High Officers until they got to Sacae.
That was something to take into account. The further Richter was from the Herald, the more easily he could maneuver, particularly garnering the faith of his soldiers. He expected that his leadership in Ostia had already done that some, but he couldn't be sure just yet. All he seemed to get was grief from everyone else.
As Ariston strode away with his entourage, Richter thought it would be best to go find Clair. As his Assistant Officer, she needed to know the situation. Guessing she'd be with Corona, Richter started off towards the stables. While he was walking, he noticed her heading the same direction, carrying her lance. "Clair," he said in an attempt to get her attention, "You're up and about, I see. Sleep well?"
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jan 6, 2010 10:58:35 GMT -6
Clair heard her name called and glanced over. It was her commmander. She came to a halt and snapped a quick salute before speaking, and falling into step beside him towards the stable.
"Well enough, High Officer, for being attacked by horrors, and then having to evacuate the area." She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back some. "How are you and the army holding up?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 6, 2010 12:23:32 GMT -6
"I could be worse," replied Richter with a sigh. "Can't say I really enjoy any of this." He held up the envelope he had gotten from the Herald. "I just got the salary for all of the soldiers. I'll have that cashed in and distributed soon. That'll probably raise the men's spirits, if just a little bit." He tucked the envelop back in his pocket. "The Herald is sending us back to Sacae, Salvation Point to be specific. We're traveling there with the other High Officers under High Commander Ariston. Once we get there, the rest of the officers will move off to their respective forts while I play Region Officer under Ariston." Richter ran a hand through his hair. "Ariston seems to be better than that fool, Yurau, but this is still quite a step backwards..." The High Officer trailed off. "Anyways, I shouldn't bother you with my worries," he said, looking around. "I haven't seen Theian around lately, have you?"
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