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Post by Remus on Apr 12, 2015 10:33:28 GMT -6
Remuses eyes darted back and forth as he felt an edge slip into his senses. The brigands were fighting relentlessly. Constantly throwing themselves at the small group. With the nomads arriving it had grown larger but the brigands only seemed to further fight with a desperation akin to survival. Then a series of appearances happened. First a loud shout bellowed. An orange haired muscular man was rushing into the fray, a thin swordsman at his side. Allies it would have seemed given how they entered the fray. Their appearance was complimented by a piercing shrieking sound echoed through the air. Remus having never heard it looked upwards in distraction to see a scaled winged creature descending. It was too small to be a dragon, and with their being a rider he could only assume it was a Wyvern Rider. He had long heard tales of them but never had he known one in person. It was a sight that truly echoed through his mind as a first. He wasn't the only one to notice it.
From the wagon pulled by the courageous Dragon-Hero-Horse the two children's heads continued to remain barely visible. Each one stared in wonder, but for different reasons. Amelia stared at the orange haired warrior in fascination and wonder. Those large shoulders. They were perfect. Even now she could imagine it. She sitting atop the colossal warrior's shoulders as if he a walking throne; but what better a throne than one that could fight? Of-course her future right hand commander of the Amelia Empire's Dragon Forces, Owain, would have a place. The lesser shoulder, but he would share a seat of power. It was absolute. Remus would have to make this happen. She would see to it. Owain however was far more distracted, first by the arrival of the horse back nomads and then by the flying Wyvern. Owain had a fascination of caring for animals. Animals didn't talk, couldn't say mean things and were always nice to you if you took care of them. It was why he like horses. He hoped imagined that dragon..err..flying little dragons like that were the same.
While the children gawked on in wonder over their respective idle fancies, Remus noticed the accumulation of wounds beginning to pile up. The man with a wounded shoulder. The warrior taking the gash to his chest. Then there was the fact that the Sacaen myrmidon protecting him had just received a laceration along the side of his arm as a brigand tried to blindside him. With help from a horse mounted archer and the Ilian merc; he was dealt with. Remus however knew if he could keep everyone healed or in top shape it greatly increased their odds for survival.
So he would put the prayers to good use. He lifted his staff into the air. Magical energy rushed upwards around him as a wind like essence transpired; gusting past him and causing the priests blue and white robes to billow wildly as if he stood in a heavy wind. He thrust his staff with both hands into the air and a bright radiant gleam reverberated from it. At first the blue light emanating from the glowing red gemstone circled Remus. It pulsed with life's essence before growing larger to encircle an area around him before blossoming and bursting outwards, his prayers guiding the magic to restore the wounds of those around him simultaneously. A far more straining effect than healing individually but at the same time effective in group combat none the less. Flesh would knit it's self back together, wounds mend up and pain vanish as the magic imbued within those around him. Panting a bit, and a trail of sweat accumulating along the sides of his face from the strain however Remus shifted himself to lean his weight on his staff as he attempted to catch his breath. It had taken more out of him than he would have liked.
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Post by Duma on Apr 13, 2015 9:13:00 GMT -6
Duma almost turned around when he heard the words of a man in another language. And then noticed the two bandits who had been charging at him were felled by arrows to their throats. At first he thought that the arrow was launched by one of the nomads, but as the large orange man approached Duma noticed the bow at his back. It seems that this large sir and another behind him were joining the fray as allies.
Spasibo! Duma spoke. It was one of the few words of the far north language he knew. The word was raw and odd on his tongue and hoped he had not offended. He recalled the merchant from the north who spoke with a similar accent. Then remembered the corpse he became when he was killed. He gripped his blade tighter his eyes narrowed. Bastard Bandits! His strike was precise, his swing was full of fury. He killed another one who had charged at him.
Then from above there was a roar. And a figure he had wanted to see in a long time descended into the battle. IT'S A WYVERN! Two blonde figures were on top of the mighty beast, directing it's movements, and driving lances upon the bodies of the bandits.
Duma shouted out to the nomads not to strike at the new comers.
"Allies! Allies! Allies!" He spoke in a hurried but loud voice in the language of the nomads. Hopefully that would be enough to avoid any miss communication. He took a breath. The warm light of the holy man's staff filled him with some calm. His minor wounds were healed thanks to the priest's healing magic.
Duma ran up ahead his target was an archer. He knew archers had an advantage against those who rode winged mounts. The archer saw this and quickly fired a shot, the swordsman dodged. The arrow bounced off of his shoulder guards. And Duma went in for the kill. A quick slash at the archer's neck and he was dead.
He looked out into the fray. There were only about 14 bandits remaining. The group of allies had helped to turn the tide of the battle. He hoped that the children in the caravan were alright. A swordsman charged at him. A young myrmidon with a fresh scar on his face. The young one made the first move. And Duma was prepared for it. What Duma did not see was another bandit creeping up behind him.
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Perun
Warrior
Words of praise will never perish, nor a noble name.
Posts: 141
Profession: Donnie's Muscle
Affiliation: LCO
Guild: What is Guild?
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Perun on Apr 13, 2015 18:07:48 GMT -6
"Perun is fine Duno-ven. Do not worry." Perun grabbed his wound. "Thank you for killing him Duno-ven. Perun is sure he pay back fevor sometime soon." Then, his thinner friend was accosted by two men, one with an axe and the other with a sword. Perun cut a massive line in the throat of the swordsman, glad to be rid of him quicker, knowing he'd be the more trouble. Then he hurled his shoulder into the man with the axe. He was beginning to like the concept of his body as a weapon. The man fell to the ground, and for a moment Perun turned his eyes to the enemies who were on their feet.
He saw a green haired swordsman dealing readily with both his allies and his enemies. In very different ways. However, he did not appear to be aware of an enemy behind him, sneaking up to him with a lance. The orange giant roared, a massive bellow that ripped across the battlefield. He hurled himself at the sneaking bandit. He leaped into the air, and swung in a downward strike at the man.
The man lifted his lance in an attempt to block the blow, and the thing broke in two against the mighty axe. The man threw away the half that did not hold his spear head. Then he tried to stab Perun with the side that did have the point on it. Perun tried to grab at it, but the man sliced him along the backside of his forearm. Perun roared in pain, throwing his head back. Perun delivered a quick, menacing blow upside the man's head, and felt his axe rend flesh. His adrenaline was flaring, and he turned panting to look for his next opponent.
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Post by Donovan on Apr 14, 2015 2:39:03 GMT -6
As quickly as the two bandits appeared before Donovan, they were eliminated by Perun. The friendly giant was a good partner to have around, whether it’s for a drink or a fight. Before he could thank him, though, the warrior was off to rescue a green haired swordsman.
Donovan felt a tingling as his wounds suddenly began to mend. Had his mother not been a healer, the sudden disappearance of his wounds might have scared the mercenary. He batted away a bandit’s sword and hit him in the face with the pommel of his sword, knocking the bandit out cold. Hopefully someone would find him and could get some information out of him once the fight was over.
Having a couple of seconds to breath, the mercenary took a look around the battlefield to see where he was needed most. The swordsman seemed to recognize Perun was an ally, a red-haired mercenary was fighting back bandit’s as easily as batting away flies, and a wyvern was circling above, looking for foes. They’d all but won the fight. Then, Donovan saw 3 bandits making their way to the caravan with the children, they must have slipped away from the fighting during the carnage. The mercenary gripped his blade and sprinted with all his might toward the horse drawn carriage.
“Perun! The Children!” He called to his friend, Donovan knew the warrior was too far away to get use his axe, but hoped that the orange giant’s arrows would find their mark.
He closed in on the first of the three just after the bandit had thrown an axe, killing the nomad guarding the children. The bandit drew another axe and aimed at the horse drawing the carriage, but Donovan’s blade flashed and severed the man’s tendons before he could throw again. With a strong kick to the back of the knee, Donovan knocked the bandit to the floor. His sword pierced the bandit through the heart, killing him quickly. The mercenary could see that the others didn’t have any ranged weapons, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be fast enough to catch them in time.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 14, 2015 21:18:59 GMT -6
Flynn felt the healing magic wash over him and his wounds close up. He grinned confidently as he felt refreshed and reenergized and his strikes picked up again. He parried a sword strike from one bandit before elbowing the man in the face. The Sacaen slashed the bandit across the stomach as he recovered from the blow, then followed up with a quick thrust towards the man's chest. The bandit's skin was pierced and he toppled back, lifeless. Another axe wielder charged at Flynn, swinging his axe in a mighty diagonal strike. The mercensry dropped to his knee to dodge the man's swing and kicked his feet out from under him. As the bandit fell, Flynn stood up straight and planted his sword point into the man's stomach before quickly yanking it out. The bandits numbers were beginning to dwindle, which prompted Flynn to raise his sword in premature victory. "Just a little bit longer!" he shouted. "That'll teach these bandits about who they're really messing with!"
Flynn lowered his sword again as he heard the green haired swordsman shout to the nomads in a language the Sacaen did understand. Smart move by the swordmaster. No need to have them accidentally attacking a friendly. He dodged another sword swipe from a bandit that he returned with a swift strike at the bandit's now exposed waist. He fell to the ground as Flynn heard the black haired swordsman shout to who Flynn assumed was the orange haired warrior about the children. He turned around to see the mercenary take out one of the three bandits approaching the wagon. A nomad lay on the ground with an axe in his chest. Anger flared in Flynn's chest. He drew his throwing knife and chucked it towards the bandit closest to him before running towards the wagon. The knife struck the man in the back and Flynn finished him off with a quick stab to the back. The Sacaen withdrew his sword and knife from the bandit's body before throwing the knife again at the last bandit. The small blade struck the man's leg and stopped his advance for a few moments. Flynn ran towards the last bandit near the wagon, hoping he would reach him before it was too late.
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Roland "Wolf" Wymond
Wyvern Rider
Posts: 18
Sacae Fame: 1
Profession: Wandering Knight
OoC Alias: Wolf
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Post by Roland "Wolf" Wymond on Apr 15, 2015 9:56:17 GMT -6
Wolf heard the green haired swordsman shout something in Sacaen to the nomads. He had picked up enough from the village he and Leo had once lived in to determine what he was saying. At least Maelstrom would be glad to not be full of arrows from confused allies. As Maelstrom circled above the battle, Wolf noticed a man on top of a hill watching. "Who could that be? The one responsible?" Wolf questioned himself. He was snapped out of his daze by Maelstrom narrowly dodging a hand axe thrown at him. "Tsk, no time for him I guess."
Wolf had Maelstrom dive right at the guy who had thrown his axe, and unfortunately he had not had the time to grab his iron axe from his back yet. Wolf skewered the bandit and then flung him off the lance to the ground.
Another Hand axe grazed Wolf's arm, but a moment after he could feel the wound mend itself. He glanced over and saw a priest with a fortify staff. As the wound closed, Wolf impaled the other axe thrower. He did not see any more bandits with hand axes. A swordsman ran at him, but was easily parried. "Seriously? I think these bandits are getting dumber," he said to himself. The swordsman then found a lance in his chest. After pulling back his lance he took back to the sky to survey the battle.
Wolf circled the battlefield and saw less than a handful of bandits left. "Just a few more to wrap up," he said readying for another dive.
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Post by Remus on Apr 16, 2015 9:55:36 GMT -6
The battle was chaotic. The sound of frenzied combat echoed through out the fields as the warriors openly battled to fend off the brigands. Their numbers continued to thin. Each moment they fell in size until a few three were left. They made a desperate break for the caravan; remembering the orders and spurned on by the realization that with just three of them perhaps they'd get to split the pay out higher. That was, until two were cut down. Leaving just a single brigand that had broken from the group and was running towards the Caravan. Though no specialty in speed he had a solid head start. Remus'es gaze turned to fixate on it as a helpless frustration over came him. He could but heal..but that wouldn't stop him. Running towards the caravan, he knew he wouldn't catch up to the man but he had to think of something. Anything really. Hopefully someone else would be able to catch him. Remus tried to warn the children however, shouting loudly as the Ilian and Sacaen hired mercenary and myrmidon turned to run in pursuit; though faster than Remus but not enough so to catch a break and intercept him. It would come down to the others upon horse or with range or maybe simply fleet enough. He shouted out though to try and warn the children atleast even though they had been watching.
"Amelia, Owain! Get out of there!!!"
He couldn't know the brigands intentions, but he feared the worst for the children's safety as the main ran to the caravan shouting with his Ax raised. It was then, that the children tried anything. Owain's rock collection was to make the ultimate sacrifice. The children started to throw and pelt the small round diverse textured rocks towards the man. Most aimlessly bounced off of him, though a few slowed him a bit as they hit his face with one even hitting his eye and causing him to flat out stumble a bit before continuing to run.
It was up to the others now, because a few rocks thrown by small children wouldn't be enough.
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Post by Duma on Apr 16, 2015 12:48:18 GMT -6
Duma parried the young swordsman's sword with ease and killed him with the second slash. His experience made all the difference. The young one was sloppy with his blade and probably feeling confident after killing one of the nomads. He knew better. Duma turned around in time to see the orange haired one kill a bandit with a lance.
"Thankyou!" He spoke with a slightly hurried breath. It was until someone shouted in the distance about the children. The swordsman was too far to help them and hoped that the others who were already charging that way can catch up. Duma's priority was killing off the bandits since they were closer.
He ran off charging at another bandit who had an axe. The man had just slain another nomad, removing his blood stained Iron Axe from the dead man's chest. Duma recognized the nomad he had ridden into battle with. The bandit had turned around in time to see the flash of iron from Duma's blade slice his neck. The bandit fell back with a gurgle of blood on his voice.
The swordsman crouched down to close the dead nomad's eyes.
As he got up he noticed another individual upon the hill. It appeared that this man was watching.
"HEY! YOU!" Duma shouted. He tried to make towards the hill. But the sword master was intercepted by another bandit. Damn it! GET OUT OF MY WAY! This bandit was one who used a lance. Crap. Lances were a problem.
Duma dodged as well as he could but the lance gave his opponent a longer reach. The bandit went in for a lunge the blade scraped against the sword's man's side. Giving him a nice gash. F&^% He took advantage of the lunge and stabbed the bandit with his sword.
He turned back to look up at the stranger on the hill. He was gone. Duma slowly made his way to the healer, who was in turn making his slow way to the caravan. He kept pressure on his wound with his arm. This was going to be a very painful game of catch up.
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Perun
Warrior
Words of praise will never perish, nor a noble name.
Posts: 141
Profession: Donnie's Muscle
Affiliation: LCO
Guild: What is Guild?
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Perun on Apr 30, 2015 20:23:19 GMT -6
"PERUN! THE CHILDREN!" Perun whipped his head to look at where he thought the children must be. He saw someone, a man, one of the bandits running for the wagon that held the children. The orange giant roared, his spit quickly covering the grass in front of him. Perun threw his axe into the ground, so that the blade cut through the tender earth. Then Perun spun his bow off his back, and quickly ripped an arrow from his quiver. Without thinking, he drew back and let loose in one solid motion. However fast it flew on the outside, Perun experienced the whole motion in slow motion.
The bowstring being pulled back tensed all the muscles in Perun's arm as he locked his elbow. His shoulder blade glided across his back, shifting his skin around it, and his massive chords of muscle. The behemoth held his arm in position for only an instant, and then, released, the tension leaving his fingers and arm as the string quickly snapped against his wrist. The arrow's back moved back and forth as the head spun, shifting the arrow, however, it flew true. It tore through the air, it's feather in the back whistling as it flew. Finally, it took the bandit straight in the calf. The man cried out in pain and doubled over.
Perun roared once more and took off, sprinting up the hill as the man crumbled and began to crawl away from the battle. He caught the man before anyone else, remarkably, and grabbed the man by his hair, then pulled out a new arrow, and dug it into the man's neck. Perun cleaned that arrow, and the one lodged in the man's calf, on the grass, then shoved them back in his quiver. He then turned to get his axe, calling to his thin friend, "You are being okay Duno-ven?"
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Post by Donovan on May 1, 2015 14:16:50 GMT -6
As Donovan sprinted forward to try to catch up to the remaining bandits, the red haired mercenary stepped in, swiftly dispatching the one closest, followed by a giant arrow from Perun’s bow wounding the third. A moment later the Giant himself flung onto the killer and ended him. Donovan slowed and took a look around the battlefield. The Greenhaired sword master was wounded and a small number of the nomads appeared to be dead or injured as well, but otherwise, there were few casualties. Most importantly, they’d intercepted the killers before the children could be hurt. After being absolutely certain that there were no more bandits, Donovan fell to the floor and took a deep breath.
"You are being okay Duno-ven?”
Donovan laughed, “Yeah, big guy, I’m alright. You didn’t get yourself hurt too bad, did you?”
As the many protectors of the plains began to relax and comb the field, Donovan remembered the bandit he’d knocked unconscious earlier in the battle. He stood to find someone in command and realized that in the heat of the battle, he hadn’t noticed his sword broke. The mercenary looked down at the last bandit he’d killed, half of his blade still lodged in the man’s chest. He carefully pulled the broken blade out and wrapped it in a dead bandit’s shirt.
He walked over to the sword master and pointed to where he’d knocked the bandit unconscious. “I cracked the skull of one of the bandits, over there. Chances are he’s still alive if you want to question him or imprison him or something. I don’t know how they handle things like this on the plains.”
The two headed down to where the bandit should have been, but he was no where to be seen. “I guess he woke up and managed to sneak away while the children were being attacked…”
The mercenary looked down solemnly at his broken blade. “Did you see if any of these bandit’s had a decent sword? Mine broke.”
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on May 12, 2015 22:28:37 GMT -6
Flynn slowed his sprint to a jog, then to a walk, then stopped. He took a deep, relieved breath upon the death of the last bandit. The children were safe, no small thanks to the large, orange haired warrior. The warrior had made quite the impressive site with his swift, brutal killing of the final bandit. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a display of ferocity. The Sacaen approached the pair, waving as he did. "Well met," he told the warrior and mercenary duo. "You certainly save ours and the children's hides." He looked back over his shoulder in the direction from which the bandit horde had come. "I wonder what brought that many down on us," he pondered. "Usually bandits run in packs of five or six in Sacae. That was at least a good thirty." Flynn furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked back at the two. The mercenary seemed upset at his broken sword, which made the Sacaen smile a bit. He glanced down at his own sword in his hand before lightly flipping it around and stabbing it into the ground. He placed the blade's scabbard strap on the hilt of the sword.
"Take it. I've got a spare," Flynn said as he pointed to the silver sword on his back. "The name's Flynn and I hope we can continue to work together for some time." He gave a friendly wave before walking away. He made his way back over to Remus, scavenging up a new iron sword for him to use. It was of a different make than his Sacaen blade, but it would serve him just fine. He reached the priest, nodding in acknowledgement as he did. "Are you alright? Are the children okay?" the mercenary asked as he placed his new sword onto his back and adjusted the strap.
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Post by Remus on May 14, 2015 6:57:34 GMT -6
While Remus was grateful that someone had felled the brigand which had sent himself hurling towards Amelia and Owain; his thanks was put on hold by his urgency to check on the two orphans. Clearly, they shared that same urgency..~
Amelia let out a triumphant "yes!" As the brigand was killed. The child had clearly succeeded in her deeds by hurling rocks at him. That last one had been a ringer, she had felt it in the swing. However her work was not done. She tried to remember the phrase as she hopped off the wagon pulled by Dragon-Hero-Horse. What was it Nayru had taught her?No something...The girl crouched and attempted to roll the corpse of a brigand over. With effort she managed to shift the meaty muscle-heads shoulder upwards and attempt to budge him. His body flopped over onto the other side. A single roll. Then she threw her hands into the air triumphantly and exclaimed. "No witnesses!" Any other phrase she could mutter was cut off as she was scooped up by Remus who had continued moving while the others discussed; the priest moving to the cart while carrying Amelia who pointedly looked around unsure why her victory wasn't being celebrated. Remus examined them both to ensure neither child was hurt, though Amelia's energy spoke for her own health as she clambered over his shoulder partially and was trying to get a look at the others.
The blue haired priest grunted before he finally took a step back. Owain quietly spoke after a moment or two. "I'll wait here with the wagon. If thats okay." Remus assumed he correctly guessed Remus was going to take them to speak to the people who had helped defend them. However that didn't seem to stop Amelia who had broken from Remus'es grip and ran over to the large orange haired man. Quietly she looked up at him before holding up her hands to him and nodding as if simply pointing out a fact. "Let me ride on your shoulders please~"
Remus however had brought owain with him despite the boys wishes; who was now practically hiding behind the priest at the sight of so many strangers. With a warm smile, danger averted and children now safe after all; he greeted the others before speaking so all of them could hear him. "Thank you, to all of you. You have my gratitude. The children are both unhurt..er..as Amelia is very well demonstrating. I..don't know why they attacked us. I'm glad though you all were there to help us!"
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Post by Duma on May 14, 2015 10:35:06 GMT -6
Duma took his time getting to the wagon. Slowly but surely he arrived to see both children and the priest safe and sound. The other nomads who aided in the fight gathered around him. Duma was glad he could help save the children. The energetic one, the girl, Amelia as she was called was already running over to the large orange haired man demanding a shoulder ride. The normally stern faced swordsman couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the child’s innocent antics. With the danger over, Duma quietly put some salve over his wound. Ugh.. It stings.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. The eldest daughter of the village chief, one of the few female nomads, that ran up to fight alongside her clan pointed at the priest then to the village. She spoke in her tribe’s native tongue. Duma could partially understand her. She used hand signals to help get her point across. It seems they want the group to join them at the village for a while. Duma nodded and began talking.
“You are welcome holy one. The tribe would like to welcome you.. er All of you.. to the village to uh.. rest and recuperate. It is the village’s way to say thank you.” The maiden leaned down off her horse to whisper something else in the Swordsman’s ear.
“And to figure out.. why you.. have brought one of the tribe with you?”
“Did I say that correctly?” I hope I did. He paused. He turned up to look at her. Then to the priest, then back at the woman, then to the crowd, trying to get some sort of response to see if he was correct. Another man pulled up beside Duma, the sacean myrmidon whom was escorting the caravan. He patted the swordsman’s shoulder in order to reassure him. Then he greeted his fellow tribe’s men and talked to them. His translations were much more fluid then Duma’s. Soon, the nomads were heading back to the village and give word to the locals to prepare for guests and wounded. The green haired swordsman sighed. His wound was not serious but it was annoying to walk with. He managed to snag a small moment with the blue haired priest after everyone had said their piece.
“Pardon me blue haired one, my name is Duma. If my assumption is correct you are going to be down a man soon. I would not mind filling in that missing gap.” Despite his stern appearance, the pain his side was in, Duma’s voice was surprisingly calm and polite. A nomad stopped close by Duma offering to give the swordsman a ride.
“We can speak more once in the village.” He carefully got up onto the horse. Then gave a nod to the priest, then to the rider, the rider gave a shout and the horse was off.
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Perun
Warrior
Words of praise will never perish, nor a noble name.
Posts: 141
Profession: Donnie's Muscle
Affiliation: LCO
Guild: What is Guild?
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Perun on May 26, 2015 17:34:16 GMT -6
A swordsman with red hair approached Perun, the large man remembered him having stood with the fighters against the bandits, so Perun did not feel any need to be on his guard. The man used one of those strange greetings, "Welling to the meeting Red Hair. You fight like man with many scars." Perun struggled to come up with the exact translation. It was a form of high praise for his clan, meant to say that a young warrior didn't fight like an inexperienced boy child.
Perun looked down at his little friend, though among most people other than Perun Donovan was a giant, wiping his forehead with the back of his left hand. "Perun is not being hurt in any way that Perun can not help by simply being resting soon." Perun then sped his long legs over to his axe, and bent over, ripping the blade from the earth in one jerk with his powerful meaty forearm. He slid the handle through his loop, and turned to survey the field. There were no more bandits whatsoever. Good, Perun's beast had left his heart. He had scowled enough for one day, now it was time to grin and bear whatever the world could throw at him.
What the world did throw at him was a little girl asking for a ride on his shoulders. Perun grinned, and lifted her with one arm, setting her down gently on the right side of his head. He looked in her eyes and saw that she was brave, so he did not hold her there. He was quick when he needed to be, and was sure he could grab her if she were to fall. Perun looked down at the little boy with the priest, and considered lifting him as well, but could tell that the boy was not interested. Part of him wanted to thrust it on the boy, to show him that if he moved past his fear he could do things that were more enjoyable than idling around. Instead he simply grinned again and said, "If you are wanting ride too, asking Perun is all it takes."
Perun considered he and Donovan's position. The two of them killed murders to get coins. That had been their way since they had met. However, neither had asked the other about leaping into this battle. They simply had. As Perun turned to carry the little girl towards the village, he wondered if they would be paid. He said to the little man with blue hair, "Duno-ven and Perun make sure that no children or priest men are hurt. It is good thing we were here." Perun lightly bounced the little girl. "Hello, I am being Perun." He made sure not to walk too fast so that he and Donovan could avoid being separated.
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Post by Donovan on May 27, 2015 0:29:58 GMT -6
The red hair mercenary’s sword was far more balanced and durable that the old blade Donovan had been using. His father’s sword was never really meant for the heavy fighting that the mercenaries had been up to, and Donovan was surprised it hadn’t broken months ago.
“Thank you, Flynn. It is a fine blade. You can call me Donovan. This beast of a man is Perun. Hopefully we can come to some sort of agreement!” He smiled at the idea. The crew assembled seemed to be of a good sort. Donovan put the scabbard on his belt and gingerly placed the sword in it. He gently placed the remnants of his father’s blade in his bag, as his mother would appreciate having it once again.
The little girl came running up to Perun, demanding a shoulder ride, which the giant happily obliged. Donovan laughed hardily at the sight. The little girl couldn’t have been higher in the sky if she tried. Owain, the young lad, seemed a little shyer, hiding behind the robes of the blue haired priest. Donovan smiled, he had just the trick to warm up the lad to the group. He reached into a small pouch on his belt and pulled out a little flute. It seemed to make no sound when he blew into it, but from over the hill that the mercenary pair had stormed over, a fox kit came running clumsily toward them. The mercenary in green scooped up the red coated beast and kissed it’s head, then bent down slowly and looked the little boy in the eye, speaking in a soft and gentle tone that his father had always used in plays to garner the audiences sympathy.
“His name is Kitchi. It means brave. He loves being scratched right behind his left ear, here. Do you want to say hello?”
Donovan put Kitchi down on the ground and let the kit wander cautiously up to the boy, before turning to join Perun’s conversation with the Priest.
“I'm Donovan, Holy man. I have a feeling we should be thanking you, wounds don’t tend to heal so miraculously without one of your kind running around. Though, I suppose you might be more in our debt than we are in yours - that is a conversation for another time, I think! We should join the others, I know I would love a warm bed tonight!”
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