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Post by Rayl Torien on Jun 24, 2010 19:41:56 GMT -6
"...Guinevere..."
the faint words, almost whispered, escaped the lips of a man too ill for too long. He was breathing regularly, fever gone, pain subsided...as of this moment: Rayl was alright. As he slept soundly, dreaming of whatever it was he was dreaming involving his golden haired friend, he moved his right hand as if trying to grab something, like a handle of a basket or someone's hand, but instantly returned it when all he felt was a sudden cold. This enough prompted him awake.
Blurry eyed yawning he slowly sat up and off the floor of his tent, and looked down to whatever that cold thing was: his sword. Rubbing his eyes, he reached out clumsily for the weapon, not entirely sure how long it had been since he was last awake/ holding a weapon...probably a new record. Grasping the handle tightly the get reacquainted with the blade as he rose to his feet, the 'Holy Knight' gave it some test swings to try and get himself stretched and fully awake. After some time of this, he half walked and half dragged himself over to the tent entrance, and was greeted with two sights:
One: They weren't near Salvation Point anymore now were they? and Two: Elibe was right there staring at him. Giving the horse a pat on the side of the neck, he looked back to where his armor lay, and began the task, a bit more difficult than he remembers, of putting his armor back on then noticed a piece of paper stuck between his chest plate and shoulder plate: taking it out, his eyes began to scan the letter smile creeping onto his face:
Dearest Sir Rayl,
I'm writing you this letter as I sit watching over you. A lot has happened to our camp since you fell ill. The shaman Morgoth revealed that he is working for his own agenda after attacking a tent with the tactician Mavick, Officer Feldsky, and another shaman, Love, in it. All three are alright, but Morgoth escaped despite our effort to stop him.
Once we were able to regroup, Commander Ritcher ordered us to get ready to march on the remaining Prophet's troops from our earlier battle. From what I gather, he sent a small squad ahead to scout and possibly help us get in. Even as I write this, soldiers in the tent around me are packing up to go to battle yet again. If you should wake up before we return and are fit for it, we'll be marching on Ariston's fort by midnight. We could most certainly use any help you could give, but your health comes first. If you're not up to it, please don't strain yourself. If you are, even just your presence will help our morale and I'm sure Commander Ritcher will appreciate it as well.
I've done my best to guard you while you were ill and I hope I did a satisfactory job in doing so. I will pray for your quick recovery.
Hoping you a swift and full recovery, Lady Guinevere
With smile still on his face, he folded the letter and placed it in the compartment he had added to his new armor like it had been on his old: in it were his old cookbook, and now this memento.
Upon exiting his tent once more, he near instantaneously saddled up and rode through around the empty tents, the air refreshing on his face...but where was every-
Oh...the giant group of people over there...hey, he was finally conscious after X amount of days, give him a break! And thus he continued his ride to meet with his comrades: He may not be entirely up to fighting, but he could at least be there for moral.
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Post by Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen on Jun 25, 2010 13:06:25 GMT -6
Tuatara dug quickly through his satchel. After several seconds he came up with a small gong and a squirrel. He thought a moment, and then let the squirrel lose.
The squirrel ran around the corner and up one of the guards legs. Tuatara followed it around the corner. Three guards had Marcus in a cell, weapons drawn.
On the spur of a moment, he threw the gong like a Frisbee. It hit a guard on the side of the head, and Tuatara drew his sword. "What are picking on him for? What would boss-man say about that?"
OoC: Now we should wait for Kraft.
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Rein
The "Before" years
[M:0]
Posts: 22
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Post by Rein on Jun 27, 2010 15:54:34 GMT -6
OoC : I hope you don't mind I'm joining this thread.
IC : (Continued from A Wanderer) Rein had been staying in prison cell since he was captured this afternoon. How stupid of him to be captured for a stupid reason. He looked around his cell. This cell was narrow and uncomfortable, the floor was cold. "How can this happen to me, Mother Earth?", he murmured.
He heard commotion from outside. Wondering what happen. he stood near the bar and looked outside. The soldiers was preparing for battle, they checked their equipment. Even most of the prison guards were leaving prison area, left few behind to watch the prisoner. Soon, the prison area was quiet.
"Maybe it is my chance. I won't stay in this cell any longer.",he said. He thought for a plan. "Hey, you!", he called for a guard nearby. The guard approached him, "Don't shout on me. You poor Sacaen!", he shouted. Rein was silent, holding his anger. He examined the guard's pocket and saw a bundle of keys "Perfect! That is what I need." After stared to Rein for a moment the guard turned around. Chance! Rein grabbed the guard's shoulders and pulled him. Before the guard could react, Rein broke his neck. The guard was dead and Rein was free to take the keys. He opened his cell door. "Thank you for the key, now I need a new sword.", he took a Slim Sword from the corpse.
Rein ran until he heard someone shouting. He searched for the source of that voice and saw someone with his sword drawn. Furthermore, he saw three guards with their weapon drawn too. It looked like they would fight soon, but, one-on-three? "That's not fair." He decided to help him. He approached the thief. "Need help?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Jun 28, 2010 0:56:51 GMT -6
Arrows continued to sail over the heads of the rebels soldiers. Their ranks rippled with anticipation. Soon, Richter would order the assault. The night wasn't getting any younger. By now, with a combination of poisoned water, if Evayl and Tuatara had indeed been successful, surprise, and some good old fashioned archery, Ariston's men would be as softened up as possible. That's all the pink haired commander could have asked for, considering the extenuating circumstances at hand.
As Richter watched Clair sail off into the sky, carrying the tarp, he couldn't help but notice a familiar presence behind him. "Rayl," muttered the commander, before turning around to face his friend. "Glad you could join us. I'm sorry, but I decided to go through with my plan. We were losing time on Ariston, and frankly, your plan went to ****. I came into your tent to tell you, but you were still out cold." He looked the paladin up and down. If the poison that was supposed to be delivered into the enemies' systems was even half as effective as it had been on Rayl, it would be a huge turn in their favor. Part of Richter hoped that Ariston didn't drink any. He wanted to cut the cur down with his own power. He wanted to see the giant fall. "I see you're feeling better."
Out of the corner of his eye Richter saw the sky flare up as Clair lit the tent tarp. The burning tent fell through the sky, landing on the fort and tossing out flames and sparks as it contacted the enemy fort. Though he couldn't see exactly where the makeshift bomb had landed, he could see the enemy soldiers scrambling to deal with the unseen threat from above.
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Post by Rayl Torien on Jun 28, 2010 22:51:58 GMT -6
When Richter addressed the tired knight, he gave a weak smile to his old friend, before responding," There is no need to apologize my friend: You have a duty to perform, and we share a common cause: Myself and our Lycian troops are here to assist you, regardless of current politics." with a nod, he stretched his neck whilst scanning the various heads in search of a field of golden hair, This behavior would have not been noticeable, if it hadn't been for a slight...look in his eyes. Eventually, he seemed to spot her up and behind some of his cavalry men.
"I'll take up command on the troops to the left." with this, he made off in a trot, past various soldiers, who turned to him with smiles and welcome backs, before he made his way to a middle of horsemen and footmen, Lycian and Etrurian...and of course to his right: Lady Guinevere. He looked to the sides, awaiting Richter's shout to attack, but took a brief moment to lean to the side of his saddle, and take one of Guinevere's hands in his, and whispered a 'thank you' into her ear.
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Jun 28, 2010 23:44:04 GMT -6
Guinevere stood in her spot when she heard the soft footfalls of a horse approaching. She didn't think much of it, as she was fairly close to a number of cavaliers. It was only when she felt one of her hands being taken that she looked over and was shocked to see Sir Rayl next to her. She was so taken back that it took her a few seconds to find her voice, in which time Sir Rayl thanked her. When she finally found her voice, she spoke up. "Sir Rayl! I'm so relieved you're alright! Should you be riding into battle alright? I know I suggested it, but it was foolish. I don't want to see you hurt again so soon after you've recovered..."
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Post by Rayl Torien on Jun 28, 2010 23:50:50 GMT -6
Guinevere was talking for awhile, and he listened to everything she said...but it all went out the other ear, and right when she was talking about his recovery...well, he leaned in and gave her a kiss, much to the odd ignorance to the soldiers around him. It was a tender moment you could say, and when he moved back from her, smile on his face, ran a hand through her hair, and addressed her concerns, if the kiss wasn't enough," I'll be fine...we'll...be fine."
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Jun 29, 2010 0:09:55 GMT -6
The golden-blonde soldier felt her cheeks go bright red as Rayl's lips touched her own. If she was surprised before, she was speechless now. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak or what words were. When he pulled away, she looked at him with wide eyes. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She felt her hand raising and two fingers touching the lips Rayl had just kissed, as if to make sure they were real.
Before she could react, she felt a shiver shoot down her spine as Rayl's hand ran through her hair. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, not at all. Just not what she was expecting seconds before going into battle. She had no idea how she would get her focus back in time to fight, but that didn't matter to her right now. All that did was what Rayl had just said. "W-We...?" She asked, her voice sounding faint with a hint of surprise, as if she had heard him wrong. Surely she was daydreaming. There was no way the great Sir Rayl just refered to the pair of them as we... Like they were... together...
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Post by Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen on Jun 29, 2010 11:30:30 GMT -6
Tuatara froze as he regarded the boy. Manis? he questioned before shaking his head. No, just another sarcaen. "Yes, help would be nice."
He then rushed one of the guards while another turned his attention to the new comer. Half way through his charge he sheathed his sword and dove under the man, tripping him as he went.
The guard got up just as Tuatara ran at him again, this time dodging to the side just before he was squiered. He drew his sword and cut off one of the guards greaves, and immediately began tieing the mans legs together. But the Etruian wouldn't go do that easily. Tuatara was kicked in the gut and sent to the ground.
OoC: Just so you know, Tuatara is a four foot, twenty year-old Sarcaen.
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Rein
The "Before" years
[M:0]
Posts: 22
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Post by Rein on Jun 29, 2010 12:11:46 GMT -6
When he was getting closer, he noticed if the thief was a Sacaean like him.
"Yes, help would be nice."
After heard the answer, Rein drew his sword and charged toward a guard while the fellow Sacaen rushed to another. He did a sidestep to dodge the guard's sword, then with a swift movement he cut the guard's abdomen. Blood poured from the wound, and the guard collapsed to the floor. He intended to do finishing blow but his instinct told him about a danger. Just in time, he was success dodging a sword aimed to his neck from behind. The third guard was standing behind him, after his sword missed, the guard used his elbow to hit Rein's face and smashed him to the wall. Rein felt dizzy after that impact, but stood quickly.
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Marcus
Manakete
Dragon Reborn
Hell and back is a long way to go, but my journey's only begun.
Posts: 176
Profession: Wanderer
Affinity: Dark
Dragon Element: Lightning
Profile: Marcus
OoC Alias: Marc
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Post by Marcus on Jun 30, 2010 10:59:34 GMT -6
Marcus watched as a man he slightly recognized from Richter's army dashed into the room, followed by a man he had seen a few cells down. At least they were fighting the guards. The man from Richter's army seemed to have his situation under control, so Marcus, letting his wings loose and using them as a speed assist, dashed at the last guard still on his feet. Marcus collided with the guard, tackling him to the ground. The loss of his dragonstone had continually made him more and more aggravated, only adding to the brutality with which he attacked the guard. Marcus rolled off of the guard and ripped his helmet off. He rammed the bone towards the man's neck, but the guard caught the knife before it connected with his neck. The two struggled for control of the knife, the guard's eyes opened wide in shock of the sheer brutality this once docile man was now showing.
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Post by Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen on Jun 30, 2010 22:02:36 GMT -6
Tuatara drew his sword. "I'm still here. Just be glad it's me and not lizard-boy." He charged and then slit the man's belt and slipped it off.
"What are you gonna do, trip me?"
"Nah, I'll do this," Tuatara replied, hitting the soldier across the face with the belt buckle. He rushed over and stabbed the remaining soldier in the back. Tuatara regarded the two. "Well come on sword-boy. And I ain't leaving you after all this, dragon-guy."
OoC: I just love Tut's nicknames, don't you?
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Rein
The "Before" years
[M:0]
Posts: 22
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Post by Rein on Jul 1, 2010 8:19:26 GMT -6
"Who is the sword-boy?", he grumbled to himself. Rein still felt dizzy, it was good the fellow Sacaen finished the other two guards. He stood up and shook his head, trying to make the dizziness disappear. Then he noticed the other guy. "Hey, that wing. Is he a dragon?", he thought. Actually, he didn't care about that and just walked toward the fellow Sacaen.
"So, what will we do now?", he asked. "I suggest we leave this place quickly."
OoC : Haha. Yeah, it's good.
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Aeros
Manakete
Posts: 77
Etruria Fame: 1
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Post by Aeros on Jul 1, 2010 21:04:44 GMT -6
Aeros had recognized his near-exhaustion in the nick of time; by the time the attack was being organized, the manakete had completely refreshed his energy. His discomfort at the presence of so many humans--even worse, their never-ending interest in him, after so many years of passing glances--eased when in dragon form, but otherwise showed no sign of change. It simply was there.
With no other purpose to drive him, however, and with Tuatara more than willing to aid Richter's cause, so he stood, only slightly apart from the companies in their orderly rows. Even this felt too close, but he needed to be available. The job of fighting this "Marcus" if the need arose would likely fall to Aeros, whether Richter had seen his fight five years ago or not. I wasn't the only one with a good rest, the dragon thought as Rayl passed conspicuously through the crowd; seeing the paladin fit again helped provide some distraction. Being honest with himself, Aeros enjoyed the thrill of fighting, of showing the power he had on the battlefield. The preparation, the calm before the storm, meant nothing to him. He almost envied the two commanders as they spoke to each other; likely neither one of them felt any boredom from the wait, so the conversation would be driven by something else... Needless to say, the beginning of the battle would be a relief.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 2, 2010 18:09:33 GMT -6
Richter shook his head as he saw Rayl fraternizing with that blond haired soldier, Guinevere. Terrible pre-battle conduct. A poor example for the soldiers, and it definitely showed Richter that Rayl was clearly not thinking about the battle ahead. It looked like Richter really was the commanding officer for this little rebel operation. For once, the pink haired rebel was actually in charge. Right now, he reported to nothing but his cause. There was something refreshing about that. Fighting not for money, or for power, or simply just to fight. He was fighting for an ideal; a world without the Prophet. And for revenge. That would never change.
Come to think of it, Richter hadn't been a true, Ilian mercenary since the butchering of his family. Starting then, he'd never truly been able to see honor in his work or feel any true loyalty towards his employers. He had simply become a stray dog, constantly trying to drown himself in the waters of war to forget his misery. Now, once again, Richter found himself himself awash in the carnage of battle, but he was no longer that stray dog. That dog had grown into a wolf, the warlord leader of his pack, and his authority rested in his ability to kill.
However, the sight of Rayl and Guinevere did tug at Richter's heartstrings. He felt no romance, as the ex-mercenary doubted that he was even capable of opening up to another person in that way, but it made him feel empty. It had been a long time since Richter himself had anybody to protect but himself. Yes, he cared for the lives of his men, but that was something different. What about...?
The commander shook his head. No time for such thoughts. This was the battlefield. His heart had been torn out long ago, Richter told himself, back in Ilia, scattered across the blood stained snow. He had nothing left to protect but his cause, and it was that same cause that now kept him going.
"Men!" shouted Richter, turning to his soldiers. The crowd of armed men behind him rippled with anticipation at his words. His long pink hair, tied in it's ponytail, fluttered and waved in the wind. His outline stood out in the darkness, drawn by the moonlight. "We have come a long way, and many of us have paid the ultimate price to get us this far. This is not our first battle, and it shall not be our last, but it shall be a battle to remember, because today we will end Ariston's grip over this land and be one step closer to freeing Etruria from the black grip of the Prophet!"
Richter paused, gazing at his men. The moon reflected in their eyes, betraying their many emotions despite the night. Fear, anger, hate, anxiousness, but most importantly, determination. Their commander stared back into their eyes, his face a stone carved visage. "Steel your hearts, men, because now we travel into hell!" The pink-haired rebel grabbed the handle of his sword, and with a flourish, turned toward the Etrurian fortress and thrust it into the sky. "Attack! Show them your resolve!" A loud roar erupted behind the Ilian swordsman as his soldiers surged forward. Silence did not matter now. The surprise was over. The plan had been executed. The time for tricks was over. War was at hand.
Richter began running back through the ranks, barking orders as he went. "Soldiers, get those ladders up on the walls, we're going over!" he shouted. A group of men holding, in total, 5 ladders all saluted and began to charge the fort. "Men, you assault on the western side. We can't all be rushing the front!" Again, the soldiers saluted, roared, then began their attack. Richter stopped in front of Aeros.
"Aeros, old comrade, can you get me over the walls? I think it's time to check up on your friend Tuatara." The pink haired rebel glanced up at the dragon, staring into his monstrous ally's fearsome eyes. "Also, I want to pay Ariston a personal visit."
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