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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 15, 2010 17:31:42 GMT -6
Richter stared at the ground. It was true. The uprising might be so well orchestrated there is no central commander. That would be frustrating to say the least. They didn't have the capacity to wage a full on war with barbarians.
"Unfortunately both of you may be right," said Richter, sighing. "I hope that's not the case, but it is a possibility. If it is true, we've got an uphill battle to fight." The commander looked around the foothills. They were almost into Ilia. The shallow foothills just began to jut skyward into the rocky mountains. No point in getting caught in the mountains before they had to. This was a good place to set up camp and rest before the group entered the frozen wastes. "Mavick's right. Let's set up camp and move on tomorrow. We'll discuss things further tonight.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 23, 2010 23:26:10 GMT -6
While Clair was the type to come up with a multitude of troubles which may come their way, she wasn't one to let those troubles get her down. After all, the wilderness was a tough place. If Richter's army had difficulty functioning, the northern raiders would have many of those same troubles. They also would have to contend with being tracked from the air. She was fully confident that they'd find a way to disband enough barbarian camps to pull through.
- - - - -
Camp was readied, and Clair found her tent in it's usual place, a short distance from the command tent. Taking care to make sure Corona had plenty of hay and water, she took a bit of additional time to sort through some things she'd gathered. Inside she left her slim lance, nearly worn beyond use. Upon exiting, she picked up a warm black cloak she'd found among the supplies taken from the Etrurian forts in Sacae. They were beginning to move back into the chill of the north, and the extra shelter it gave would be needed. For that matter, the equipment she used now would need to be replaced. Again. The armor was remarkable workmanship, but it had been through a great deal in the last several battles. That, and she was starting to outgrow it.
Now she understood why her mother had insisted that they wait several more years until they bought the high quality gear. Armor would do little good if it was too small. At least that wouldn't be a concern for too many more years. The next set would probably fit her for the rest of her life, if it was made right.
The camp felt more empty than it had before, as she stood outside her tent, fastening the clasp on the cloak. So many people she'd known had left, for various purposes. And yet others were still here, supporting them. That was something to be thankful for, even if they remained so quiet at times that you wouldn't know they were there.
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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 Oct 24, 2010 18:47:00 GMT -6
Mavick, like Clair, set his tent up near the commanders, for similar reasons as well. As tactitian, he needed to be close to the commander should there be an attack, so that he could impart his advice. However, from the diminutive mans area was no tent, but a shuffling pile and much swearing. Finally, the shaman trudged reluctantly over to Clair's tent.
The little man was red faced, as usual. It was not anger though, as much as a blush of emberassment. "Can you...help me?" he almost muttered, staring hard at the ground. "...I can't reach the top of the poles to tie my tent." he admitted. He had counted on Lyar to help him in the past, but now that he wasn't here, Mavick was stuck. Feeling almost ashamed, he burried his face into the scarf around his neck, trying to make as little of it visible from beneath his hood. This was one of those times when he obsessively worried about his height. As far as statistics showed, he only had a few more years to grow, then he would be stuck like this.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 28, 2010 18:07:02 GMT -6
Richter set up his tent quickly and efficiently, slinging tarp over pole and tying both together with the rope he had brought with him. Over the course of numerous long campaigns as both a mercenary and a soldier in the Etrurian army, the pink haired commander had mastered the art of tent making, though he forsook his Etrurian officer's tent for something a bit more simple. While the latter didn't give him much room to move around in, the luxury of such a tent as the officer's tent was a bit much considering the circumstances. Not only was it needlessly flamboyant, but he needed something easy to set up and pack up in case of an attack.
While in the tent, Richter took the time to change, removing his battered, scratched armor and his torn uniform. At this point, not only was his uniform ruined, but it provided little to no defense against the cold winds of Ilia. He traded out the tarnished white shirt and military coat for his mercenary shirt and jacket. The shirt was of a much thicker thread, and the jacket was lined with a thin layer of fur, keeping Richter much better insulated. The Etrurian pants were a bit torn, but they would do. When they got to Edessa, the commander vowed he'd get new clothes and armor. His mercenary outfit was nice enough, but it was getting old. Really old.
Leaving his tent, he noticed Mavick and Clair talking. Judging by the state of their tents, it looked liked...Mavick was asking for help? Richter grinned slightly, amused. He just stood back and watched.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Nov 7, 2010 22:36:11 GMT -6
Clair was surprised when Mavick shuffled over and practically mumbled into the dirt, asking for help with his tent. She was surprised because... well, Mavick had never really seemed the sort to need help. Of course, after he explained what he needed, she understood better.
He seemed rather embarrassed about it. She really couldn't understand how two siblings could be so different in stature. In the end though, she decided to make as small an ordeal over it as possible. "Of course." An irritated Mavick was not something she wanted to spend her time around, if she could help it.
Soon they were on their way back to Mavick's tent, and Clair began pushing her way under the tent, trying to get it set up. Honestly, she could just barely reach the top of the tent poles herself, having to stand on tiptoes to reach. Lyar probably had to hunch when he was inside. She idly continued that line of thought, wondering how the blue-haired giant was doing, wherever he was. He'd certainly been an interesting character, as was his brother.
"Mavick, you grew up in Ostia, right?... What was it like there?" The question came from a few lines of thought. What had the city been before she'd witnessed it's destruction? Who were it's people? What were it's values? What had this short tactician, who she knew so little about, thought of the city?
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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 Nov 8, 2010 21:13:03 GMT -6
Mavick shuffled his feet, still staring intently at whatever was so damned interesting on the ground. Though he tried to hard it, it was no secret that he was utterly embarassed about the whole thing. He was just grateful that she didn't have any fun at his expense over the whole ordeal. And she was right, Lyar did have to duck to get inside. Not a fact he was happy about, considering he couldn't even touch the top unless he hopped.
He almost sighed in gratitude as she brought up a subject that didn't revolve around his stature. "Ostia is-or, at least it was- the military capital of Lycia. In times of war, the Marquess became an impromptu leader of the entire country. As such, Ostia itself was a very militaristic state. Nobles, though richer than the common man, were not pampered and spoiled people who lived in luxury, but were rather hardened and disciplined. True, Ostia had it's decent share of the arts, but if you're an Ostian, you're a soldier." he explained. "You saw the city. It was practically one giant fortress. To have whiped it out the way it was...That is no easy task." he stated grimly. With it, he let out a bitter laugh. "Alas, poor Ostia. Your walls have fallen and your crops have burned." he cited.
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 9, 2010 18:12:34 GMT -6
The conversation of Ostia popping up, Richter suddenly became interested. To tell the truth, they hadn't talked much about Ostia save for the fact that it had been overrun by walking corpses and blown up. Despite some internal horror, everyone seemed relatively calm about it, which was not only odd, but probably wasn't for the best. There was some hellish magic at work in Ostia; magic that seemed all too familiar to Richter. It gave him that same other worldy vibe that he had felt during the battle at the Delfian harbor. If it really was the same magic that had resurrected Hargus and the heroes, not only would their little band of misfit rebels have to be careful, but all of Elibe. The Prophet could be using weapons far out of their league.
"Wiping out Ostia would be an easy task when you have profane magics at your disposal," spoke the commander, approaching his two advisers. "If someone commands the same power which resurrected Hargus, destroying Ostia would be much easier than for most." He looked towards the girl and the short man. "I'm not the only one disturbed by the living dead in Ostia, am I?"
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Nov 12, 2010 21:43:14 GMT -6
Clair listened as Mavick finished his description of Ostia, trying to picture a place she'd never see. It didn't sound very different from her home in Illia, when described by the tactician.
Clair noted Richter's arrival calmly, though what he brought up did nothing to help. The dead bodies rising, and trying to claw the Ostians and Etrurians alike had been like a nightmare, and like she would a nightmare, she'd tried to put it out of her mind. It was apparent though that Commander Abend had some ideas on the matter.
"Oh, they're horrifying enough. That's for sure, but I think that's why no one mentions them.... Except for Commanders who speak of the last war. Had you seen them before? Should we... expect them?" A small shiver ran through her. This one, not only caused by the cold.
Richter's assumption about the Prophet controlling such profane magics would imply that they'd probably run into the monsters again. Honestly, Clair didn't know how to feel about going up against the things, other than sick.
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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 Nov 12, 2010 22:10:18 GMT -6
Mavick shuffled in his cloak as he felt a cold irritation sneak into his clothes. "Disturbed? Yes, somewhat. Fascinated is closer to the word I'm looking for, though." Mavick admitted. "It's nothing too shocking amongst those of my...field of magic. There are many legends of Elder Magic that can raise the dead. However, if there ever was such a thing as necromancy, it has not been openly practiced for thousands of years. Untill recently, of course." he explained.
"To be completely honest, I would give almost anything to get my hands on whatever tome the Prophet must have found to make this all possible. For a practitioner of Elder Magic, such fabled magic is the ultimate prize. To actually be able to utilize such a thing, however...As much as I hate to admit it, I must respect the Prophets skill. Any mere man would have been lost to such power. To be able to delve so deep into the Void..." Mavick looked at the faces of his companions. "Perhaps we should take this discussion into your quarters, Commander. This sort of talk will no doubt lessen the spirits of the troops."
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 16, 2010 16:26:35 GMT -6
"Yes," said Richter, slowly looking around at his troops, "that would be best."
The rebel commander ventured into the privacy of his own tent, and sat down on his sleeping cushion for comfort. It had been a long march, and inside his own tent he saw no reason for formality. "I've never actually seen living dead like that before. Not before Ostia at least," continued the commander, "but I've seen something like it. In a way, something worse." His gaze iced over for a second as he remembered the chaos at Delfia in years past. Jumping back to reality, he turned towards his subordinates.
"To make a long story shorter, Rayl, I, and a band of other fighters had managed to work our way into Delfia when we were surrounded by the Prophet's men. We escaped from the city, making our way to the port while being chased by hundreds of soldiers, when suddenly there was a giant eruption of fire and ice, killing most of the soldiers instantly. I was running for a boat, so I didn't hear much, but the wizard they were fighting, I think he had died before. His power, it was otherworldly. And he had warriors with them. It seemed like they were friends of the people they were fighting..." Richter closed his eyes as his brain grasped to conceptualize what could have been going on. "I think they were resurrected much like how Hargus had resurrected the ancient heroes, but even if they were alive, they were under the wizard's control. They were enchanted in some way. They had superhuman strength. Blades didn't effect their skin the way it would wound a normal man."
Richter looked from Clair to Mavick, and then back to Clair. It all sounded so ludicrous, but considering the subject matter, it was expected. "Unlike the dead we fought in Ostia, however, they were in control of all of their faculties. They could talk, and they moved liked living men. But they gave off the most frightening feeling, a feeling that made my skin crawl. I'm not an expert in magic, far from it indeed, but I think the magic that controlled them and the magic that controlled the army of living bodies in Ostia are one in the same. Call it a sick hunch."
The pink haired swordsman then addressed his diminutive tactician, perhaps looking to the shaman for some sort of answer, an answer Mavick probably couldn't give him. To this day, Richter doubted there were any people alive today who fully understood much of the power that had been used during the Bandit War. "I don't know if that helps you understand the magic at play at all, hell, I don't even know if the Prophet has anything to do with it, but I thought it was best to tell you two in case it ever came up again. It should at least give you a vague understanding of what we might run into."
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Nov 25, 2010 21:02:14 GMT -6
The more she thought about it, the more unnerving it became. The idea of fighting people who had died, yet were given a form of corrupted unlife abominable at best, and horrifying at worst. And if it turned out to be someone she knew, would she even be able to tilt her lance for battle? Would she even muster the will to move?
Clair licked her lips, wetting them from suddenly going dry. "I'll be here for you Commander." The sound didn't have the usual steadiness, she had tried to cultivate. She desparately wanted it to sound like she would stand with her Commander no matter what they faced, but it may have come out sounding more like she'd be seeking shelter behind him.
Clair tried to give herself a mental shake, but was only partly successful in dislodging the dread of the cursed magic.
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Fran
The "Before" years
[M:0]
"I am so excited."
Posts: 66
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Post by Fran on Nov 28, 2010 6:59:18 GMT -6
Fran didn't know what to do next. It seemed they were heading somewhere, hopefully this would be an amusing trip in the end. This was her reason for leaving the village, to see the world and get many experiences. The fact that she was in the middle of an army didn't bother her, at least Marcus was here. She just never expected to meet him here. Meeting a childhood friend after hundreds years wouldn't happen often although she could live longer than human.
In her boredom, she decided to play a bit. Extracting energy from her dragon stone, she emitted a small amount of frozen air which made few soldiers around her shivering. They didn't understand why the temperature changed so suddenly. Fran acted like she didn't know anything as well, trying not to laugh.
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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 3, 2010 19:42:22 GMT -6
Mavick closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as he processed this new information. "Interesting..." he mumbled. "Very interesting..." He rolled his head as if trying to get a kink out of his neck. He was probably getting a migraine from all the things he was taking in today.
"I'm with you as well, Commander." Mavick agreed. "But one thing is still certain, we need to make you two look more leaderly." he stated matter-of-factly. "Officer Feldsky needs new weapons. I saw what bad shape her lance was in, and those Killing weapons are not well known for their durability. And you, Commander Abend, need to look the part-Pardon my boldness. You're what gives our troops hope after all is said and done. You need new armor. A decent shield, as well. It also wouldn't hurt to learn a few new ways of fighting, just in case. You look like you would do well with an axe. Shouldn't be too different from how you swing around that heavy sword, and it's much easier to learn to use than a lance or a bow." Mavick rambled on. There was no stopping him now. "And it really is an effective weapon for something so simple. Just look at the damage Bro-" Mavick halted for half a moment then hastily went on, "Brigands can do with them. And most of them probably don't even have any real combat experience." Mavick then fell strangely silent, as if something else was now occupying his thoughts.
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Post by Richter Abend on Dec 4, 2010 20:20:07 GMT -6
Richter, having actually begun to grow aware of the feelings of others as of late, decided not to continue the discussion of zombies. It seemed like all this talk of dark magic and the living dead was having a negative effect on pegasus rider Clair Feldsky, and Richter didn't see much point to the conversation besides giving the two a shakedown on any potential threats. The commander would just have to let Mavick figure the rest out. After all, he himself knew very little about such things beyond his experience.
"Well I'm glad to have you both with me," said to commander, giving Clair a pat on the shoulder and a look of reassurance before turning to Mavick. "An axe sounds smart. It's frustrating to be continually out ranged by lance-wielders and no way to counter," he said, drawing his sword out of his sheath and extending it away from his body as if measuring something. "With an axe I could break right through such defense." Giving his blade a twirl, the pink haired swordsman re-sheathed the weapon, facing Mavick once again. "But how do you plan on getting me new armor, much less a shield? Last time I checked, they're weren't many blacksmiths dwelling in the Sacae-Illia foothills."
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Dec 4, 2010 21:25:17 GMT -6
Clair finally managed to break free from the thought of all that evil magic when Mavick began speaking about the state of their equipment. It was true. Clair would soon need a new weapon, and new light armor. Corona seemed to be more suited for close in combat as well, rather than the swift aerial passes that pegasi were known for. It couldn't hurt to start looking for some light plating for him as well.
She gave an apologetic, yet grateful smile to the Commander when he tried to reassure her. Now was not a time to falter. She was a knight now, if not formally recognized, then in deed at least.
"I think Illia could provide the smiths. Generals in Illia have armor of superb craftsmanship. Illian armor also has to be able to adapt to different climates, as we work in so many different regions. We could have winter-proofed armor, and then remove a few liners and be ready for the south again."
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