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Post by Garith Valkyrie on Oct 10, 2011 13:48:48 GMT -6
"Hey boy everyone is leaving without you wake UP!" Cryger shouted as he entered his son's tent. Garith had just woke up and was putting his armor as his father had came in the tent.
"Father I told Commander Feldsky everything," Garith said sounding a bit ashamed, he figured his father didn't want her to know.
"I figured you would tell her eventually and so be it easier to her to know then keep a secret now let's go," The assassin replied as he left the tent to go gather with the others.
Garith then quickly got the rest of his armor and gathered around with the others to her what was going on. So they were going to be following David huh? Garith wasn't very keen with the man but if Feldsky left him in charge he didn't care he'd follow behind him. He then noticed Derick and ran up next to him.
"Morning," He said quietly still somewhat tired. Garith noticed as his father was playing around with some of the other soldier showing off his dagger skills.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 13, 2011 11:13:58 GMT -6
Clair took a few moments to come nearer to what she saw. It was a village. Not a large one: there couldn't be more than fifty people gathered together out here, but it was still active. Smoke could be seen coming from the largest building. Cooking smoke. Someone was tending a flame inside
They'd need to be warned of the occurrences near them, in case they didn't already know of the bandits fleeing from the area. Many had been destroyed, but it was impossible to know the number that had actually escaped their judgement.
That wasn't to say she was going to let her guard down either. For all she knew, this small settlement could all be enemies. She didn't know anything about it. She'd never heard of it. No surprise there. Small gatherings were always forming and failing in Illia. People moved to wherever they could survive.
Swerving around, Clair headed back towards the soldiers. They'd left quickly and with little provisions in the hope of making this a fast trip. Speed had failed them though. Whatever this village could spare would have to be enough to build up the support of this troop. Then there was news. If they could gather any word of the ones who had pulled the wooden cage, as slight as the chance was, it would help.
Clair landed not far from the troop and rode towards them as the snow settled from her landing. She spoke up as she neared David, and the others near the front.
"There's a town to the north west of here. Only a couple hours march, I'd say."
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David Krisby
Mercenary
DEAD
"Where is MY path to redemption?"
Posts: 81
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Post by David Krisby on Oct 13, 2011 12:22:57 GMT -6
"Good." David replied to Feldsky, "I could use a replacement cloak. Although, I guess I shouldn't hope for it too much, I didn't even know there were villages around here."
I really hope they have SOME alcohol... he thought, finally deciding to keep his mouth shut when it wouldn't improve anybody's thoughts on him.
Regardless, David was pretty sure that the group would be glad just to be somewhere with warmth, the storm really took a lot out of them.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Oct 13, 2011 17:06:38 GMT -6
Derick smiled happily at the news of the village. He was still holding up pretty well in the cold, but he'd be ecstatic to see something other than the vast expanse of white.
However, in the back of his mind, he felt a growing irritation...He hadn't had a decent fight for a week or so, and he longed for it. Blinking hard and casting the thought out of his mind, Derick kept on marching. He occupied himself by wondering what an Ilian village in this region would look like.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 14, 2011 22:55:38 GMT -6
Clair smiled faintly as David mentioned the cloak. She could have spent this whole trip lecturing him about losing it, but had decided that it would do no good. At least now he'd stop griping about it and get it replaced.
"They'll have something to spare for us. If they have to, they'll be able to craft a replacement for what we need."
Not wasting any more time, they set out for the town. Ahead of them stretched a small series of buildings nestled into a small stand of snow covered trees. The only bit of completely cleared land lay up the center of the village, on a layer of snow passing as a road. The structures flanking the central path stood out in their darkened wood, and angular construction. Most of them had noticibly sloped roofs to let the snow slide off.
It seemed uncommonly still and quiet as the group moved up the row to the central building, and the Falcoknight noticed that smoke was coming only from the main building, and a few others clustered nearby. None of the houses they passed on their way into town had fires burning in their fireplaces.
"No wonder it's not on any maps. The place is practically lifeless." She said this more under her misting breath than to anyone else, but those nearby would possibly notice. The only signs of life was the smoke coming from the chimneys. And were those faces looking out of the main, twostory buidling's windows? It looked large enough to house a large number of people. Almost like an inn.
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David Krisby
Mercenary
DEAD
"Where is MY path to redemption?"
Posts: 81
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Post by David Krisby on Oct 15, 2011 17:05:49 GMT -6
"I don't like the looks of this place..." David said, trudging through the snow. "When you said that there was a town, I figured you had already gone down and looked at the place."
He held onto his sword, ready in case of an ambush. There was no telling why there was nobody around, and he didn't want to be caught unprepared for it.
He decided to vocalize this concern as well, "Should we leave a few soldiers away from here until we know if whoever is in that house is friendly?"
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Oct 15, 2011 21:52:31 GMT -6
Derick's blood was screaming in his veins. The tension thrummed through the air, and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he exercised almost every ounce of self control to focus. Faintly, he heard Ralph suggesting splitting up.
"W-why don't we send in a bree-...breacher team to check the house out...while the rest of the troop w-waits?" His voice was unsteady, he felt vicarious pleasure seeping into his blood as his body anticipated combat. His hands gripped his lance tighter...this might not be pretty.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 16, 2011 23:42:25 GMT -6
Clair looked at David with a frown on her face. Riiiight. She'd fly down all by herself, and check out the strange building's occupants. No she wouldn't. The risk wasn't worth the payout. Not when backup was only a few hours march away. He could be right about keeping some of the soldiers back, but she'd rather keep them together. If they split up, and something happened, neither group would have enough members to deal with an attack. Not in a straightforward manner, anyway.
Derick's strange voice and condition seemed to attract more attention at the moment though. The Falcoknight Commander turned around and looked at him, before stopping and swinging a leg down to the ground. She climbed off the pegasus, leaving her lance rigged to the saddle, and stepped over to look at the blond haired man. It was a hard look. He was sweating and stuttering, and carrying on. She was about to ask what he was sick with when a familiar, dreadful sound caught her ears. It was the whistle of an arrow flying through the air.
She whirled around in time to see another arrow hurtling at them from an upper story window in the large building ahead of them. It didn't quite reach them, instead stabbing into and through the snow in front of them. The group was already moving, but Clair shouted out anyway.
"Get out of the streets! To the houses!" Clair started to head towards her pegasus, when she saw a few more arrows shooting into the snow in front of it. It taking off without her! Gah! The stupid creature was leaving her grounded, and without her choice weapon. With the pegasus already airborne, and fleeing back the way they'd come, she dashed ahead and to the nearest sidestreet, taking cover behind a house there. She was really missing Corona about now.
The arrows.... Either they couldn't quite reach the group, or the people firing them were intentionally missing. She peeked around the corner quickly, only to jerk back as she saw a bow firing at her. A moment later, there was a thud, and a splintering of wood as an arrow stabbed out of the corner of the building. Maybe they'd been too far away before, after all. There were a few archers in the top of the main building. That much was clear. Clair quickly moved to the other side of the house she was taking shelter behind and looked out the other side. She saw the lights in another building near the first structure, and armed men in dark colored armor moving out, and heading from cover to cover towards them. Then her eyes fastened on a gallows built not far down the road. There was a good sized mound of snow near it. The Falcoknight had a pretty good guess what was buried under the snow.
Grimacing at the thought of what could have happened here, Clair reluctantly placed a hand on the hilt resting over her shoulder, and drew out the sword there. It wasn't familiar, but she at least knew enough to keep from cutting herself up. She'd just have to improvise to keep from being deadweight on the battlefield.
Four soldiers suddenly came around the corner. That was a fair bit before Clair was ready. The first thrust his lance at her, quickly but the Falcoknight easily evaded it, as she moved in, and swung her sword at the attacker, sending it skittering off his armor. She frowned. Whenever Richter did that they went down like ninepins.
She moved in tighter. Getting closer to a lance made it more difficult to use lethally, and getting closer to her enemy made them more likely to bunch up and get in each other's way, she hoped.
"Look out for hostiles!"
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Oct 17, 2011 14:38:14 GMT -6
"To the houses!"
Derick's body acted before his mind grasped what was going on, and in an instant he was sprinting down the street, towards the archers. Two of the deadly missiles whistled past him, and a smirk totally devoid of situational awareness formed on his face.
Suddenly, a sharp *pang* followed by a dull pain in his right shoulder, Derick dove to his left, taking cover in the alcove of a house. Breathing heavily as his vision cleared, Derick remembered his training and checked the across the street for hostiles...still nothing, good. Turning his attention to his shoulder, he immediately noticed the arrow shaft protruding from it. Thanking Elimine for not letting it be his un-clad lance arm, he closed his eyes as he gripped the shaft. A tug, and the ugly sounds of ripped flesh and clattering metal, and the arrow was in his hand. Derick's breathing slowed down, and as the last of the pain faded, his vision clouded.
The door exploded open, and Derick held his lance at the ready as he took in the room. Two men, both armed, one with a sword, the other with a bow. Both of them had undisguised shock on their faces, Derick had taken them by surprise...perfect. He advanced on the archer first, who was frantically grabbing at his bow. The archer was helpless in these close quarters, and he wielded his bow like a quarterstaff, trying to protect himself more than anything. Derick's slim lance circled slightly as he searched for the perfect spot...There! With the robotic movement of an unexperienced recruit, Derick stepped forward and sent his lance lunging forward. It dipped into the archer's abdomen, and blocking was forgotten as he writhed on the floor. Derick stepped in, his thoughts ecstatic as he prepared to finish the kill when--
Shinck!--the mercenary's sword cleaved through a part of his back armor. With a cry, Derick dove and rolled over the archer, decimating one of the chairs sitting nearby in the process. He extended his lance as his feet sought a steady position; the key to fighting swordsmen was to make full use of the lance's superior reach. The mercenary went on the attack, moving in to strike as his sword reached up for a downward cleave, but this time Derick was ready. As the sword crashed down, Derick stepped back with his left leg and went down to his knee. The sword lunge stopped pathetically short, and Derick launched off of his left leg, his lance plunged into the mercenary's side, but he wasn't ready to quit.
The sword reached up again, and came crashing into Derick's left shoulder. Derick's left hand spasmed, and his lance clatter to the floor. Snapping out of his trance, Derick looked down at the lance with wide eyes before he lost himself again. The sword flashed up for another strike, and then the mercenary was crashing to the floor. Derick had the mercenary pinned to the floor, with his sword arm safely pinned under Derick's left hand. The mercenary was dazed, his head had made contact with a table before going down, and Derick took full advantage of this. Derick shifted his weight to his left hand, allowing his right hand to move out from under his body. Twisting his left hand, Derick exposed the mercenary's wrist and brought his own arm crashing down on it. There was a sickly, moist crack, and the mercenary screamed as his sword rolled out of his limp hand. Derick picked up sword without thinking, he had no clue had to properly wield one, but he wouldn't need to for this.
Standing over the mercenary, he brought the blade of the sword crashing into the mercenary's neck. The sword hacked inefficiently into the mercenary's neck, sinking only an inch or two in and spraying blood everywhere. Derick's smile widened as he pulled the blade free and wound up again. Another slash, with more force behind it. Miraculously, the blade found its edge, and tendons tore free as the sword nearly drove through the mercenary's neck. Derick began to laugh when a familiar, sharp pain drove into his right shoulder again.
Instinctively, Derick struck out with his left arm as he spun to face the threat. It was the archer. His abdomen was stained a crimson red, and he was bent double, trying to hold a fighting position with an arrow in his right hand. Derick moved with surprising speed, charging the archer and catching him in the jaw with a left hook. The archer went down, and Derick fell on top of him. Taking the arrow from the archer's limp hand, Derick drove it into the archer's throat. As the last breaths of life gurgled from the archer's throat, Derick fell of the archer's body, and mercifully passed out.
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David Krisby
Mercenary
DEAD
"Where is MY path to redemption?"
Posts: 81
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Post by David Krisby on Oct 17, 2011 21:44:17 GMT -6
"Crap!" David yelled out as he dashed for cover. He was in the shadows of the buildings before a second volley of arrows were fired. Unfortunately, there was company waiting for him there.
David was unprepared for the lance appearing out of the alley. It cut his side badly, forcing him to kneel. "Damn!' he cursed, regaining his footing. David slashed blindly into the darkness, he heard only the sound of his sword scraping the metal armor. With that noise guiding him, David struck at the weak points in his opponent's armor, while the soldier did the same to him. David however was not wearing armor. His opponent must have not been able to see well either.
Blood ran down the weapons of both men. Suddenly, a fire blazed brightly in front of David's face. His own blood ran cold when he saw the face of his attacker.
"Jones... Kelp Jones..." he coughed out amongst the blood.
"You coward!" yelled the man. He looked much like David, but less sloven. "It took me ten years to find you, and this is the state you're in?"
"Heh... I see you learned magic after all... I didn't think that whoever held this lance was very good at it."
"Whose fault is that, Krisby?!" he began to cry as the words came out of his mouth. "My sister loved you, you know..."
"I know where this is going, Jones, so if you wou-" David was cut off by Jones' magic fire burning hotter and closer to his face.
"You don't know, Krisby. I bet you didn't even know that Maria gave birth to a child, YOUR child."
"Wh-" David could barely speak the fire was so hot. "What are you talking about?"
"That's just it, isn't it? You didn't even know. In memory of my sister, I've had to raise her while YOU drank your sorrows away in Ilia!"
"I-I didn't know..."
"You took away my job, my sister's life, and my niece's childhood. The time for words is over, Krisby."
David didn't want it to end this way. He knew that somewhere in Jones's heart there was forgiveness. But the fire in Jones' hand only burned David's own heart. "Feh, magic." he said, raising his sword once more. "One last spar then? Not much like old times though, neither of us are even using lances."
Sword and magic clashed, the spray of fire burnt David's face, but he did not surrender to his fate. Slice after slice, he continued to cut Jones, while Jones continued to burn David with flames.
In the end, a pool of blood surrounded the two bodies. "I'm... sorry.. David. It didn't have to end this way, did it...?" came the labored words of Jones, as he struggled to get back up.
"I deserve death by your hand... old friend..." David breathed his last.
"Good night, friend." Jones said to the fallen man, as he closed the Dark Hunter's eyes.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 18, 2011 16:36:14 GMT -6
Without hesitation, Clair shot her sword arm out, slipping the tip between the man's helmet and his neck protection. Even if the sword was an unfamiliar weapon, quite a bit of point control from using her lance translated over into this short, one handed weapon. This was confirmed as the man's body jolted suddenly and blood spurted out onto his armor as the Falcoknight withdrew her steel talon.
As the first man clutched at his throat and fell to his knees, and then to the ground, the other three soldiers were not idle. One of them maneuvered to shoot a thrust at the blonde-haired skyknight, but as the spear came in, it was met by her sword, nudging it just far enough off target for her to slip aside. She felt a neat slice form in her shirt, as the tip of the lance shot past. The danger from this man had gone past her though, as she brought her sword around at his neck. It wasn't a perfect edge on cut, but the armor helped channel her weapon to the right point, and the blow caused him to drop his weapon slightly, and back off for a few moments.
Wait! A third soldier was swinging his lance at Clair, in staff fashion. On instinct, she ducked, reached out and clamped her hand on one of the man's arms, before throwing herself to land her back on the ground. Surprised by the sudden move, the soldier was pulled off balance, leaning over, and down towards the ground. The Falcoknight Commander's sword was shooting up to meet him. A grinding of metal on metal sounded, as her blade penetrated the man's chestplate, and drove into his heart. He landed just on the other side of her after having fallen over, but the other two soldiers were still moving in, albeit in a less certain manner.
Clair scrambled to her feet while they were uncertain, and ruined their only advantage on her. She grinned ferally at them, relishing the realization that they were at a loss as to what to do to fight her. Now wasn't a time to get overconfident, but she would use every advantage she could get hold of. Including fear.
Leaping into battle, she smacked one slipped past a spear thrust before lashing out with a lightning thrust to the neck of one of the guards. As he fell, she withdrew the sword, and clubbed the next incoming spear downward, pinning it to the ground with a foot. With a "Hah!" She ran up the lance for a couple steps before clubbing the remaining soldier in the head with her weapon. She wasn't able to stay balanced on his weapon for long as he dropped it by the time she tried to take the second step. She wasn't even expecting to stay balanced. Two steps would be enough for her purpose though. It hadn't been a precise attack, but it had left the helmet ringing enough to for the man to be stunned, allowing her to quickly duspatch him with another thrust under the helmet.
Now that she stopped for a moment, she recognized the armor. It was a darker color, and in better condition, but it was the same armor that Derick wore. And these were clearly enemies of Illia. Why had they... Well, it was obvious why they were here. They wanted to get in and cause damage. And they had at this village. They wouldn't get any farther though. Not if Clair could help it. She was left wondering about Derick now though. He'd had the right paperwork to prove he was under contract. But, could he be trusted still?
She turned back to the fight, and spotted one of the archers in her command leaning around the corner of the building. Not exactly the best backup, but the only thing she had at the moment. She moved close enough to het him to hear her, before getting his attention.
"Archer! You're with me. We're making a push towards the house."
The man turned around quickly, looking like he was expecting an attack, but calmed once he saw who it was.
"Commander. Yes Commander"
He followed Clair as she moved back the way she'd come, and dashed up to the next structure, murmuring to himself softly as they passed the bodies of the four soldiers the Falcoknight had just dealt with.
"Do you know where Derick is? The man who joined us last night."
"No Ma'am. Except, I saw him running towards the house at the start of the fight. Took an arrow through the shoulder, before I got one of the men on the top floor of the house."
"Any guess how many archers the enemy has?"
"Not many, or we'd be getting cut into ribbons."
"Alright then. Let's make a mess." Clair looked around and spotted a path to move forward before dropping out of view for the moment.
-----
A voice sounded in the room where Derick lay unconscious, and a few pairs of booted feet filled the room. Their armor was the darkened to blend into shadows and trees better, but it was the sturdy design of the Bernese craftsman.
"Get that door closed! They're pushing up on this side. Archers! Don't let'em poke their heads out!"
Two pairs of booted feet moved to get the door closed as the speaker walked his armored steps over to where the body of a blond haired soldier in worn and damaged armor lay quietly. He spoke quietly to himself for a moment.
Strange. This one could almost be one of ours.... But he's not.... Tough buggers these nothern mercs." The speaker reached down and gave a poke to Derick with his lance before moving off to another room, on the other side of the house. Two spearmen stood in the room still. One visible from the door, and another watching the door while hidden in a corner. All their watchfulness was focused on guarding the closed door from any more incursions like before.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Oct 18, 2011 21:01:19 GMT -6
A blunt poke in Derick's side roused him from his sleep. He didn't stir, but instead lay still and breathed lightly as his pounding headache quickly receded. Where am I?...What have I been doing?... He cracked his eyes the slightest amount. His eyes immediately caught the crimson on the floor. He stared at it intensely for a moment, then winced in pain and held down a scream as his headache came roaring back. Blood...Some of it's mine...and the other two... The memories, fogged by his blood rage, raced back into his mind...the archer...the mercenary...the fight...It all came back to him. He cracked his eyes again, this time noting their broken bodies...his attention was drown back to the blood on the floor. Some of this...is mine... Derick started to reach for his drinking pouch of vulnerary when his eyes took in something else.
Two soldiers of Bern, both wielding lances. Derick's mind rushed again as he felt another combat reflex coming on. Always preempt when possible...those were the words of one of his instructors back in training. With that thought ringing through his mind, Derick reached slowly for his drinking pouch, pulling it off his belt without a sound. He drank a ration of it slowly, taking care not to slurp or splash it as it burned his insides, he felt the open wounds on his back and shoulder begin to close.
Satisfied, he corked the bottle and put it back on his belt. He felt around for his lance, and then chanced turning and looking for it when it wasn't in reach. It was on the opposite side of the room from the soldiers...looked like he'd be improvising. He cast his eyes between him and the soldiers, looking for a weapon...There! The archer was strewn between the soldiers and himself, and he had a utility knife of sorts tucked in his belt. Derick allowed himself a slow, shallow breath as hormones flooded his system, and then he jumped into action.
He launched out of his position on the floor, plucking the knife out of the archer's belt as he sprinted towards the soldier on the right. Startled by the explosion of clattering, both soldiers turned, bringing up their lances as they did so. Derick's eyes widened, he had not anticipated that. By sheer luck, Derick strayed just to the side of his target's lance. The knife plunged just below the soldier's neck, puncturing through the soft leather just over the soldier's breastplate. The soldier gave a cry as blood erupted through the leather, and Derick took advantage of the chaos to grab his lance from the other side of the room.
The soldiers were closing, and Derick frowned nervously. Both of the soldiers held the traditional Bernese shield, which put Derick at a disadvantage both offensively and defensively. He wouldn't be able to cover his weak side...grabbing the damaged table, he pulled it in front of him. Both of the soldiers laughedWe're using lances, boy! We have the REACH--" he jabbed his lance at Derick to make his point, but Derick managed to sidestep the tip,"to go right over!" Derick laughed and planted his foot on the table's edge. With a heave, he shoved the table at them just as they extended their lances to take advantage of his vulnerability. It slid right under their shields, catching their legs with just enough force to knock them off balance.
Derick was on them like lightning, shoving the table aside, he thrust his lance through the already wounded soldier. With a ragged sound, the lance pierced through the soldier's armor-clad abdomen, and Derick felt the tip of the other soldier's lance pierce his thigh as he struggled to retrieve his slim lance. Irked by the pain, Derick finally ripped his lance free and whirled it, hoping to catch the other soldier with his spearbutt. It was no good, the other soldier had backed off, and another soldier, a sergeant nonetheless, joined his side. Derick was panting from fatigue by now, and his bloodlust was slowly bleeding out, much like his thigh. The sergeant studied Derick closely, then he turned to his minion as his eyes widened in recognition. "What in the...You fool! He's wearing Sergeant Hayworth's armor, he's the traitor!!" The sergeant's cry was enough for Derick, it was time to get out of here, he made a beeline for the door, and sprinted into the streets, praying for a rescue.
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Post by Garith Valkyrie on Oct 20, 2011 10:58:47 GMT -6
OOC: Sorry for the shortness of the post kind of busy catching up all over the place!
"Garith move!"A voice shouted to the mercenary who was standing still in shock. Garith had figured everything would be fine and he would be resting right now but no. They were in the middle of an attack and Garith couldn't really tell what was going on. It was his father who had called out to him and was now dragging him inside of a building.
"Get a hold of yourself kid!"Cryger said as he stood Garith up and then slapped him in the face. Cryger then looked around, where did he bring the two of them. He shouldn't have separated from the others, now they had to figure out what was going on.
"What was that for?!" Garith growled as he then rubbed his cheek and shook his head now totally focused. Cryger then began to speak but Garith ignored him as there were men that began to gather around the two.
"Um behind you," Garith said as he then pulled Uprising out of its hilt and turned away from Cryger to see men behind him. The assassin as he noticed all the men gather around them let out a sigh and then pulled out his daggers.
"I say about 15 or so men in here. You think a wanted and possibly the best assassin in the world and his son can take on these guys?" Cryger said laughingly. He knew that these men probably wouldn't hold up much of a fight mainly because he has had tons of experince fighting while outnumbered but he was mainly worried for Garith.
"We can definitely take them!" Garith exclaimed as the two stood back to back. As the men got closer the blue haired men the charge at them. Garith had a strange feeling that this armor he had seen somewhere else but he ignored it and kept fighting.
As Cryger clashed blades with one mercenary he took note to the fact the armor was definitely Bern. He had seen this type of armor before and it also looked very similar to Derick's. He had seen this kind of armor on a job once with Velix. They were tasked with bringing down a small rebel force in Bern. The two got some Bern troops for aid which helped out, but this armor really looked similar. What was going on? The assassin then just ignored it and kept fighting.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 20, 2011 20:49:13 GMT -6
Clair heard footsteps pounding up the road nearby, and spotted Derick running/stumbling as fast as he could up the road. She was looking out the windows on the ground floor of the building she and the archer had moved into, and saw the blond-haired spearman coming up on the door.
She was lucky. The door was jammed, but it only took a good impact from her shoulder to knock the wooden barrier loose. The door swung open, and Clair grabbed Derick by the arm, hauling him in. The archer closed the door behind them as Clair gave Derick a moment to catch his breath. Not for long though.
She pushed him backwards. Hard. Her sword gripped securely in a left hand. She didn't look happy.
"Where are you from, Derick?" Clair demanded. "Your armor is of the same make as the men we're fighting here." She needed to know. She already had a guess that may or may not be right, but she needed to know. Behind the fire and fighting, already knew Derick to be legitimate, but he still could provide some information. If she allowed herself to start doubting the papers he carried, she'd have to start doubting entire mercenary companies. She couldn't let herself do that yet.
-----
For Cryger and Garith, things were heating up. When two men are surrounded by 15 trained fighters, things get hairy quick, regardless of abilities. Always, the spearmen were working to come at the two from all sides at once. Allied axe and sword fighters began making their way into the room within a few moments though, which evened the score somewhat.
The bloody dance continued, injuries and casualties on both sides racking up.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Oct 21, 2011 13:24:07 GMT -6
Derick tried to thank his commander as he tried to force air into his wounded body, but couldn't spare the breath for words. He doubled over, his breathing finally slowing from sharp gasps to shaky breaths. He looked up at Clair to thank her, and that's when she shoved him. Figures. Derick tried to appreciate the humor of the situation but there wasn't much, as his wounded leg gave in and he collapsed against the wall, he knew his commander would have loooooots of questions...Questions that would need answering.
"I-I'm with..." he stopped, that was really poor word choice. "I was once with Bern" he amended, stopping to catch his breath. He would have to lend some credence to this story, and his mind raced as he thought of a way to prove it. His armor...if they saw Sergeant Hayworth's ranking badge, they could confirm his story. He started to remove his remaining soldier plate, the one with the insignia on it. Stalling wouldn't solve anything, however, so he started to talk, "Bern...considers me a traitor...maybe I am one..."
The buckle that held his soldier plate had been damaged by an arrow, he wouldn't be able to unfasten it too easily with his hand...Desperate for a crowbar, he reached for his lance. He stopped when he realized reaching for his weapon might send the wrong message. After an awkward moment, the archer realized Derick's problem and set about unfastening the buckle with his knife. "Keep talking," the archer said in a tone that brooked no argument, Derick obliged.
"An assignment I was sent on went badly...My sergeant's competency was questioned, and I was blamed for it." Derick paused, now was NOT the time to bring up his bloodlust/addiction thing, he didn't know how he would explain it anyways. "I was locked in a dungeon, given a fairly standard punishment, no food, limited water, one week," again, lie of omission, mentioning the death sentence would raise questions. "My sergeant wasn't content...He had been planning on having a lofty military career, and his hopes were all but dashed..." There was a loud crack as the buckle broke. The archer pried the plate out of the buckle and looked at it questioningly. Derick held out his hand for it, and, surprisingly, the archer obliged. Derick turned it in his hands as he spoke, his eyes lingering over his former commanding officers name that was printed above the three golden bars.
"My sergeant decided some personal punishment was needed, so he came to visit me on my last night in prison." That much was true, the dastard had waited until Derick could barely stand. "He brought his lance with him, and took great pleasure in striking me with his spearbutt as he taunted me." Derick's face darkened, even now, he could feel his combat reflex coming to life again. "As a parting gift, he tried to catch me with his lance tip." He stopped rotating the piece of armor and stared at the name, "I killed him, took his armor, and managed to make my way through the compound to the stables, I'd had it...I started riding, passed out from blood loss and illness, and woke up in an Ilian mercenary guild..."
Derick looked up from the shoulder plate and offered it to Clair. "The official rank and name of Sergeant Hayworth, the man I killed, are inscribed on here, same with any Bernese armor. Show that to any Bernese sergeant, and maybe even some Bernese infantry, and they'll think you killed their traitor." The door opened, the archer and Derick both spun towards the door...it was just one of the allied healers. Thank Elimine. Derick thought, relieved. However, the healer stopped, and looked at them questioningly, it WAS an interrogation after all. Derick looked back at Clair...he decided against assuring her he felt no loyalty to Bern, he thought he'd at least made that much clear.
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