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Post by Richter Abend on Dec 31, 2013 2:29:19 GMT -6
Richter placed a hand to his sweaty brow as he gazed up at the relentless Sacaen sun. Damn were the Sacaen summers hot, and the worst part about it was that there was no shade in sight under which to take a break. It meant that Richter's only real option was to keep pressing onward to make as much progress during the day so he could maximize his time relaxing in the cool, breezy nights. Indeed, he had slept like a baby this past week or so, but only because he was so exhausted after a days full of riding. Even the occasional stream was little relief. But there was little point in complaining, Richter thought. After all, he might be wilting in the sweltering heat, he imagined that the Sacaens who were used to the weather would probably find the icy chill of his homeland to be equally as unbearable. That, and that if he were to complain, the only ears to hear it would be his horse, and he doubted the equine would appreciate that.
As his horse sauntered him slowly through the plains, the dry grass crunching with every step of its hooves, he turned his sights northwards to the snow tipped mountains of the sub-Ilian range. It was bizarre to think that despite the heat he was currently in, the air surrounding those mountains was brisk and cool, and that beyond them was a frigid wasteland. Ilia. His eyes glazed over wistfully as he thought of home. Perhaps it was just due to the fact that his upcoming trip was likely to be one way, but part of Richter wished he could just cross those mountains and return home for good. He could bring Clair home to Mary, and send Ardus a letter telling him to come home, and the four of them could live out the rest of their days in peace just like Clair would want. But as much as he wished that were so, and he did wish it, Richter knew it could not come to be. Someday, maybe, but not yet.
He knew Clair would hate him for stealing away into the night, but he also knew that she would have either forbid him to go or would have followed him on his foolish quest, and thus hoped that one day she might forgive him. She'd call him stupid and self-sacrificing, but he had to do this alone. This wasn't her fight. No, he'd dragged her into it as a young naive pegasus knight, and she didn't deserve to go sacrificing herself for the cause of an weathered, broken, and scarred Ilian wardog. He made a silent promise to himself that if he made it back, he would give Clair the life she deserved, one of peace and happiness, but if he didn't, hopefully she would be able to move on. Yes, it was selfish, but there would be no peace for Richter as long as he knew that the monster he helped aid still drew breath in the land of Elimine. This was his penance, and he would not sleep until Kraft and his Herald were dead.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 15, 2014 18:07:55 GMT -6
After about a half-day's ride, Richter came across a small Sacaen camp sitting alone upon the endless, grassy plain. With the sun bearing down upon him, the Ilian longed for a bit of rest and shade, and maybe even a bit to eat, but he was reluctant to stop. He was no friend to Sacaens; his campaign here under the Herald’s direction had seen enough of their lives taken, and he wasn’t particularly good at making nice with them off of the battlefield either. Kenshin and Mana were shining examples of that. He wasn’t sure if it was their blind loyalty to each other or their brutally honest natures, but Richter found them hopelessly stubborn, which of course caused conflict since he was the exact same way.
But for all his reluctance, the pink haired Ilian really did need some rest, so he decided to suck it up and brave the camp. Hopefully these people wouldn’t have the slightest clue who he was. After all, he was dressed in cotton traveling clothes, and his weapons were attached to his horse like any sensible traveler. He didn’t have the slightest air of military or Etruria around him, or at least he hoped that was the case, and he didn’t plan on starting any fights as long as nobody started one with him. He was even willing to pay for food and rent if need be, but he imagined there was little use for coin out here on the plains. He’d most likely have work to do in exchange for any amenities.
Turning his course slightly, he set his horse on a path to the camp. Their yurts were of typical Sacaen style; they lacked decoration or pomp, but they were well made and practical, capable of being torn down and erected in a moment’s notice. The tribe members looked as expected, with their dark, straight hair either tied up in a ponytail or tucked behind a headband, clad in the geometrically patterned garb that was custom to Sacaens, and from what Richter could tell, work was done for the day. A group of men, who looked to be a hunting band, had just rode in, bows at their sides, and the women and children seemed to either preparing the evening meals or playing about between the tents. It was a happy sight, one Richter wasn’t keen on ruining.
“Hail,” he said to a nearby man. “My name is Rich...Richard Abster, of Ilia. I’ve come a long way and am looking for a place to eat and lay my head. Would you happen to room for a weary traveler?”
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 23, 2014 23:25:18 GMT -6
The Sacaen, an older man with a long, white beard, and a face baked by long days in the sun looked up at his pink haired visitor. He stared at Richter with a long, piercing gaze, one that made Richter just a wee bit uncomfortable, but just when Richter was ready to turn tail for fear of being recognized, the man smiled.
"We don't get a lot of travelers through this part of the plains," he said, his voice jittery and slow. "Except for us, of course." He slowly turned his head to look back at the tribal camp behind him, then looked back at Richter. "We come through here every year, following the wild horses. This is the time of year we teach our young men how to hunt and ride." The man pointed a shaky finger at the group of men who had ridden in on their proud, tall horses. They each held a bow made of bone and hide, and rode with a confidence and natural bearing unseen in Lycia or Bern. "So how can I help you?"
Richter eyed the man wryly. Hadn't he just said? Had the man ignored him, or was he simply hard of hearing? "Er, food and rest?" he inquired. "I understand if you have nothing to spare..." They were a nomadic people. They probably only hunted enough for themselves, and had just enough beds for their tribe to sleep in. "Oh, we most definitely have some of that," the man replied, his voice matter-of-fact but his attention clearly fading away somewhere into the distance behind Richter. The Ilian sighed. "Do you need some?" "Only if you can spare it," muttered Richter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Maybe that's why this man was out on the periphery of the camp: to drive away any passing travelers without the patience to go through him first. Lord knew Richter was beginning to lose his. "Why of course," replied the man with a smile, genuine and thoughtful. "Go to the center of camp and ask for Gris. He'll get you some food and a safe spot in the grass for a night." The man paused as Richter nodded, about to thank him for the help while he began directing his horse down the way, before suddenly speaking up again.
"He doesn't really like visitors, especially if they aren't Sacaen, and I already sent one his way which he probably didn't like, but he's in charge of our food stores, so there's really nobody else to send you to." The man chuckled softly, as if this was just part of the process, but Richter didn't reciprocate. He had enough reasons for a Sacaen to hate him as is. The last thing he needed was a Sacaen looking to find fault in him, but it seemed that was his only option, so he merely nodded in gratitude. "Thank you for your help," was the Ilian's reply. The old man nodded in return. "If he gives you any trouble, tell him Pawpaw sent you," he advised. "That'll do the trick." "I will," affirmed Richter. "Thank you again."
And with that, he set off towards the center of camp.
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 24, 2014 0:03:04 GMT -6
Gabriel Zobek had to say, the Sacaen summers were quite the ordeal. A lot of nothing but grass, wild animals, and the occasional showing of Sacaean hunters on the prowl. He wasn't one to mind the heat usually, but with a lack of traveling through Sacae before, it meant trying to find a good path on his own merits. And a map only went so far when most of Sacae was rather uncharted when it came to landmarks. But luckily for Gabriel he had come across a tribe in his travel. And one that was accepting of outsiders, luckily.
On the other hand, the Sacaen man in front of him was rather unhappy that Gabriel was there. "And I suppose you'll be wanting food for your steed as well." Gabriel was dressed in armor that somewhat resembled Richter's, though also held it's own distinctive style. The Etrurian Ferrari behind him was dressed with saddlebags and holding a number of other items latched onto the bags as well.
"No, I have feed." Gabriel maintained a level voice, though he had to admit that the abrasive nature of the other man was starting to wear on his nerves slightly. The Sacaen started to speak again before turning his head slightly at the sound of another on the approach, Gabriel doing the same.
"Great, another outsider." The Sacaen groaned. "Take what I've given you and go." He began to shoo the Etrurian away. For his part, Gabriel nodded and began to leave, tugging on the reigns of his steed, food in his free hand. He nodded to Richter as he passed.
"Good luck with him."
Perhaps he'd talk with the other traveler a bit after he dealt with Gris as well. A bit of company never hurt when you traveled on the road as often as Gabriel had.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 26, 2014 1:09:33 GMT -6
"Right," muttered Richter in reply as his eyes lingered on the other passing non-Sacaen before snapping to the man he assumed was Gris. Gris seemed irate. The Ilian wasn't looking to start a fight, not in the least, but he was looking for food and he had been told this was were he could go to get some, so he wasn't go to back off just because someone needed an attitude adjustment.
"I need dinner," the Ilian stated, "for me and my horse." The Sacaen just snorted. "Need? No, my people need this food. You're just looking for a free meal," Gris replied, tossing a couple small bags into the tent behind him. "Let me guess, Pawpaw sent you," he remarked with a sneer, tugging on the strings of a large burlap sack sitting at his feet. Richter responded with a noise of indecision, not quite sure how to respond, before being cutting of. "Don't bother answering. I know he did. Don't think it'll get you any special treatment; the old man's too friendly for his own good." Gris hoisted the sack up and tossed it at Richter, who just managed to bring his hands up in defense before it struck him in the chest. "It's the only reason you're getting anything at all. Can't tell Pawpaw I sent a visitor away empty handed." Richter could only wonder why the man hated outsiders so much. Sure, he could think of several, more than one involving himself, but if he actually wanted to know, he'd have to ask, and he really didn't care to.
"Is this all I get?" asked Richter, peeking inside the sack he'd just been given. Horse feed. "I'm sure it's edible, but I don't know how well it'll pass." Gris only smirked, though it wasn't a friendly expression. "Funny guy, huh?" he replied. Richter could only shrug. No, he wasn't typically known as a funny guy. "Here. Should be enough for you. More worried about your horse getting fed." Gris tossed Richter an apple, which he was more prepared to catch than he had been the bag of feed. "That's all you get. Now scram." The Ilian eyed the apple, sizing it up. Wasn't much, but he'd survived on less. "Thanks for the food," he said with a mock salute, then turned off in the direction the other man had gone. After walking for a bit, he spotted the man's recognizable red armor. He had never met the man, but he felt like less of a stranger than these Sacaens did.
"So, what'd he give you, two beans and a stick of jerky?" asked Richter, taking a bite out of the apple. "Hopefully I lucked out."
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 26, 2014 2:11:13 GMT -6
Gabriel sat under the shade of a tree, his steed's bundle offloaded and placed aside for the time being well it fed and relaxed as well. For the time being he was quite content to just find a nice place to relax, nevermind the pitiful meal. He could deal with that.
"So, what'd he give you, two beans and a stick of jerky?"
The brown haired Etrurian opened his eyes, looking over at the source of the voice. Speaking of food, he was curious to see what he had spared the other traveler. And it wasn't any more or less than one apple.
"Hopefully I lucked out."
"Heh. Well, I think we broke even." He lifted up a hand, revealing the apple in it before taking a bite himself. "Least it's something, though." He took another bite, looking Richter over before gulping down the food and starting to speak again.
"Tell me something if you don't mind.. You match the measure of a man I've been hearing a lot about in recent years. A fellow by the name of Richter Abend. Wouldn't happen to be that man, would you?" Gabriel grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Because I've been looking forward to meeting that man."
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 26, 2014 2:48:54 GMT -6
"Hmm," Richter vocalized, not giving any outward indication that he had any idea of who this man was speaking. It had taken a good amount of effort, but he'd learned to suppress natural reflex to react to his own name, a good skill for a man like him. It came in handy when you weren't sure if the one you were talking to was friend or foe, or when you were trying not to reveal your identity in the midst of people who could grow very unfriendly to you very quickly upon learning it. "And just why would you want to meet a man like him?" Richter took another bite of his apple.
"I hear he's a warlord and a butcher," he continued speaking with a full mouth, "or a traitor and a heretic depending on who you talk to." The Ilian swallowed his food before continuing further, refraining from taking another bite while he finished speaking. "If you ask me, neither of those sound very good. Actually, I figure the only people who would be looking for him would be assassins or headhunters. You know, people with pointy, sharp objects, and I can't imagine why he would want to such men to find him." Taking a bit of weight off of his feet, Richter leaned on the broadside of his horse. "So if you are indeed wanting to meet him, and I don't doubt that you are, I figure asking isn't the best strategy."
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 26, 2014 11:50:44 GMT -6
"I hear he's a warlord and a butcher, or a traitor and a heretic depending on who you talk to."
"War has a way of spreading all sorts of rumors. Legends and myths even, potentially." Gabriel paused, taking another bite. "Me, I've always been someone who likes to take a measure of a man himself. You believe everything you hear and your mind will rot."
"So if you are indeed wanting to meet him, and I don't doubt that you are, I figure asking isn't the best strategy."
"Perhaps so. A man can't ask after someone peacefully these days. The last few years have been rough and things look to continue on that path for a while to come." Gabriel's expression looked troubled. "It seems like the only place not quite ready to blow these days is Sacae. The Isles always have their own problems and nothing ever happens in Nebata."
"I suppose most would think that good for a mercenary like me, but a little peace sure wouldn't be a bad thing. Might be able to actually go home then." The brunette's face took on a bit of a wistful expression before taking another bite of his apple. "Etruria's in some bad hands these days." The other warrior's armor did indeed look to be heavily Etrurian in design, a quality that made it look rather impressive while maintaining a high quality of protection.
"I suppose I've been a bit rude though. Name's Gabriel. And your's?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 28, 2014 0:09:42 GMT -6
Richter smirked uncomfortably as Gabriel commented about Sacae's apparent peacefulness. Sure, it was peaceful now, but it hadn't been a couple of years ago. Many Sacaens had died under the Prophet's occupation, and Richter had been no small part of it. He took grim comfort in the fact that Etruria had been driven out by his efforts.
"My name is..." began Richter, before pausing to look around. There was nobody within speaking distance besides the two of them. "...Richter, as you’ve clearly realized. But I've already introduced myself to these people as Richard Abster, so I would appreciate it if you could keep it that way." The Ilian's brow furrowed as he spoke. He knew he wasn't being followed; a follower was something pretty hard to miss on the plains. But over all these years, Richter had built up an aversion to strangers, and for good reason, so it was hard to shake the thought that this "Gabriel" might be an agent of the Prophet. Still, something about this man felt genuine, far unlike all the Prophet-slaves he had met in his life. It was a gut feeling, to be sure, but Richter had learned to trust his gut. “I have my reasons, and if you don’t already know them, I’d rather keep them to myself.”
After giving his greeting, Richter took a seat in the grass a few feet away from Gabriel. It was as close to a gesture of trust the mercenary was going to get.
“So what brings a mercenary to Sacae? I can’t imagine there’s a lot of work for you here.”
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 28, 2014 0:51:09 GMT -6
"But I've already introduced myself to these people as Richard Abster, so I would appreciate it if you could keep it that way. I have my reasons, and if you don’t already know them, I’d rather keep them to myself.”
"Don't worry, Richard. I completely understand. More than I care to, in a fashion." Gabriel spoke up again before finishing off his apple and tossing the core aside. He waited for Richter to sit before he continued on, keeping his relaxed position and not making a motion for any of the gear that lay nearby.
“So what brings a mercenary to Sacae? I can’t imagine there’s a lot of work for you here.”
"Well, I suppose part of that answer is reintroducing myself. My name is Gabriel Zobek. I don't know if my name is still talk of the town anymore, but I'm no friend of the Prophet and never was. I tried to warn people, but in the end..." He shook his head. "I suppose I didn't stand a chance of stopping him after how high he already was. Regardless of that, I was exiled and have had to deal with the occasional assassin of his that manages to track me down. Believe me, I do understand that wariness. Well, aside from my brief tangent there, I was actually on my way to Illia and Bern isn't exactly the best place to be crossing through to it these days. I'd rather avoid that conflict." An odd thing to say given his current way of life, but he had another goal in mind.
"You see, I've caught wind of someone trying to stir up trouble for Kraft over in Ilia. And I'm of the mind to go help. Now, what gets me is what you're doing out here though. Someone like you, I'd expect to be down in Bern or prepping for Etruria's eventual attack. So, Richard. What brings you out here?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 28, 2014 18:23:55 GMT -6
Zobek, Zobek... where had Richter heard that name before? It sounded so familiar, but the Ilian couldn't quite put his finger on it. But if he was an exile like he said he was, then Richter had probably heard it from the Herald, no doubt as an example of a man, or rather "unfortunate soul", punished for not submitting to the Prophet's rule. Though Richter would have imagined the Prophet to simply kill such an outright dissenter. If Gabriel was merely exiled, either the Prophet had gotten worse with time, or Gabriel was important enough to warrant the lighter punishment.
The red clad commander could only smirk as Gabriel mentioned assassins. Yes, the Prophet did love his assassins. They seemed everywhere nowadays, and in Richter's case were some of Etruria's most skilled men. Alranus in particular had been a devilishly potent opponent. What a waste that they wasted their lives in service of a megalomaniac like Kraft. And in a way they served a purpose entirely counter to their intent, only serving to make Richter into a more and more potent weapon to be used against Etruria rather than strike him down. Perhaps Gabriel was the same way. Richter could spot a myriad of weapons both on his person and strapped to his horse, and imagined there were even more hidden in places he could not see. He was probably a skilled combatant.
"I'm just traveling through myself. Heading to Etruria, actually," Richter replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You could say I'm getting ready to stir up some trouble of my own."
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 28, 2014 23:55:46 GMT -6
Gabriel briefly looked over to see his steed had completed it's meal, turning to look at Richter again as he heard him start to speak once more.
"I'm just traveling through myself. Heading to Etruria, actually," Richter replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You could say I'm getting ready to stir up some trouble of my own."
The former Etrurian soldier stroked his chin in thought after he heard those words. He'd been planning on waiting a bit longer before returning to Etruria, but then again, he hadn't exactly planned to find The Winter Lion Richter out on the Sacaen plains either. Perhaps this turn of fortune was one that could benefit him in an unforeseen manner. Yes, it was about time that he had started to head back to Etruria.
"Well, Richard. Mind some company for that trip?" Gabriel grinned, a look of determination on his face. "I think it's probably about time I went home."
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Post by Richter Abend on Jan 29, 2014 16:44:24 GMT -6
Richter couldn't help but chuckle at Gabriel's response. Awfully forward, wasn't he? Not that the pink haired Ilian had a problem with it. After all, it was definitely better than him being shifty or evasive, but these days he wasn't quite used to such directness coming from anyone but himself, and even that was becoming rarer and rarer. Constantly being hounded by secrets and whispers would do that to a man. Richter imagined he'd probably have been driven insane by suspicion were it not for his dedication to his mission.
"I don't know," began Richter, stifling his chuckling. It wasn't the appropriate response. "I was originally planning on running into this death trap alone. Figured that if I was going to get anyone killed it would be me and me alone since I've got enough blood on my conscience already." He paused, rubbing his chin. He'd already left Clair, the love of his life, behind. He'd told himself that she didn't have a dog in this fight, but it had really been a selfish decision on his part to keep her safe. Would accepting Gabriel's help be just as selfish because he wasn't a loved one? Or would telling him to pack up his bags and stay away be worse? Hell, did it even really matter? He'd never really deferred to righteousness or morals before, why start now? That could wait until Kraft's disemboweled corpse was lying dead on his throne.
"But it sounds like you've got just as much of a row with the Prophet as I do." The Ilian shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't advise you to come with me, hell, I wouldn't advise anyone to come with me, but I'm not going to stop you from getting the revenge you're rightfully owed. And frankly, I need all the help I can get."
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Post by Gabriel Zobek on Jan 29, 2014 22:28:07 GMT -6
"I was originally planning on running into this death trap alone. Figured that if I was going to get anyone killed it would be me and me alone since I've got enough blood on my conscience already."
Gabriel crossed his arms, listening intently as "Richard" spoke. He knew that kind of feeling himself, considered it quite a few times. At the same time though, even he knew just how suicidal that kind of plan was. But, Richter must have a lot of confidence in his abilities indeed to be truly planning on a one man raid. It was rather admirable, actually.
"But it sounds like you've got just as much of a row with the Prophet as I do." The Ilian shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't advise you to come with me, hell, I wouldn't advise anyone to come with me, but I'm not going to stop you from getting the revenge you're rightfully owed. And frankly, I need all the help I can get."
It was Gabriel's turn to chuckle a bit now before coughing shortly and starting to speak. "I certainly respect your warning, but I'm afraid I must turn that down and insist that I come. I'm not a one man army, but two of us will be better than one, I think. It's long overdue that someone made a real attempt at setting things right in Etruria. Even if you just have revenge on the Prophet in mind and could care less about Etruria, you're still someone I'd hope to count among allies, Richard."
The former soldier uncrossed his arms and shifted slightly, adjusting his sitting position to a kneeling one and extending a hand to within reach of Richter, meeting him halfway. "So what do you say?"
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Post by Mana on Jan 30, 2014 14:11:23 GMT -6
Mana was accompanying her friend, Terra, on her errand to speak with some local chiefs around Arulad camp. This one was the last, and the farthest. The brown-haired woman's father, who had led the Arulad tribe for the last few years, had something important he wanted to discuss with these chiefs and as his daughter it was her duty to convey the message personally. It was considered as respectful to send the chief's son or daughter to bring important message with a handful of guards. Mana didn't have any important role in this talk but she came along to accompany her dear friend. But, she wouldn't attend the meeting, the swordswoman chose to walk around the camp.
Sacaen was always open and warm with their kinds, event with different tribes. Well, there might be some conflicts between tribes but they were generally in peace. After all, foreign threat from Etruria or other kingdoms had become more dangerous recently. Mana received warm welcome from these good men and women. Some of them also recognized her as the successor of Falcatta and one of the dragon slayers. The girl got some gift as she wandered around, mostly food like grilled meats or fruits. She wouldn't be able devour all of these foods, though.
As she continued her strolling while trying to devour the mountain of foods, the Sacaen maiden saw an interesting scene. There were two men in the middle of the camp, they weren't Sacaen. The one knelt and extended his hand as if he invited the other men. It would feel a little awkward if she had to disturb their bonding moment, she thought. Mana then headed toward them. The girl came from behind Richter, and although she noticed the unique color of his hairs, Mana still felt dizzy after eating so much meat so her numb brain failed to recognize Richter's famous pink hairs. The Ilian commander had dyed his hair black at their first meeting, too, reverting his hairs back to pink fooled Mana completely. She could see Gabriel, though. The girl smiled to him. "What are you doing?" she asked with her mouth full.
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