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Post by Kraft on Sept 2, 2009 12:43:06 GMT -6
Another group of dusty soldiers entered the fort. It was a simple fort. It had a small church, a few houses. A blacksmith, a stable. A watchtower or two. It had simple loam walls, with wooden pallisades on top. The wall was two men high and patrolled by men from the small fort.
Inside the fort one could here the singing of men. The praying of men. The church was the highest building inside the fort and the symbol of Etruria's power was inbedded on it; the seal of the High Inquisitor. A symbol that was starting to get known. Outside the walls there were some wooden structures of vagabonds, merchants and nomads who seemed to prefer living near a centre of Etruria's power than in the rolling planes of Sacae.
This particular region of South-West Sacae was dusty and had long, sharp grass as far as the eye could see. Not fertile enough for conventional farming and only suitable for livestock, many goods had to be brought from Etruria. The border was a 3-4 days away since the carts had to drive over muddy roads. A road was being built by prisoners and paid-laborers, but work progressed only slowly, since none liked being here.
It was known to the District-head of this region that there were a lot of Sacaen villages in the vicinity. One of them had agreed to follow the teachings of Saint-Elimine, so soldiers and missionaries were present there as well. More soldiers than missionaries or priests, since the District-head was cautious and feared traps.
It had enough man to rout any army of wild barbarians that dared to attack the fort, but so far they had only killed messengers, lone soldiers and missionaries. Secretly the District-head despised these Sacaen animals, but he had his orders and had to treat them as humane as possible. If that failed, he had the option of extermination, which he preferred. Sacae was a nation of vermin and should belong to the glorious nation that Etruria was.
The garrison consisted of mercenaries and volunteers. Among them was Richter Abend, the right hand of the District-head. The District-head was friendly towards Richter. He did not know what kind of relation he had with the Herald, but he decided to play it safe. He pampered Richter with presents and smalltalk during their trip to the fort. And now they had finally arrived.
"So, what do you think of it, Richter? This will be your Headquarters. Let me explain your job one more time." He smiled at Richter and showed his hands in a gesture of apology, knowing that he had explained it during the trip a dozen times.
"You must make sure that all missionaries are protected when they visit Sacaen villages. We value the lives of holy men very much. These men have sacrificed all the things that we take for granted; family, children and so on, in order to bring the Truth to these... Sacaens" One could here how much he disliked them "And your task also involves the daily routine of the fort. You know, training men, etc... Another important task is waging war upon the ones that kill our men for no reason! And scouting, mhp, yeah, scouting is important. These Sacaens go here and there, taking their tents with them. Not all of them, of course. But of course, you know how they are."
While talking they had put the horses in the stables and went to one of the houses. The house of the District-Head and the Region Officer. The second one was Richter. It seemed he had gained himself a new title. He had around 100 men at his disposal. Not all of them could leave the fort of course, but in a way, he was responsible. Responsible for the twenty-something monks and missionaries as well. Most of them were mild, young fellows, who had this fire for Truth and Peace in them. The older ones were OR cynics who feared for their lives OR critics of some the rules of the new doctrine. The latter ones never showed their criticism, out of wisdom and fear, and if they did, only very subtle.
This was the place Richter had stranded.
"What about a bath, Region Officer?" The bald District-head smiled at Richter and reminded himself that he had a sealed letter from the Herald for Richter. But some things could wait...
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 2, 2009 16:22:52 GMT -6
Richter gently shook his head at the District-head's offer. The man was a bit smothering, constantly offering him things. It was most likely out of complete good-will, but it was a bit more than Richter could take. "Thank you, but I'm going to have to say no," replied Richter. "There are other things to attend to." He looked around the fort. It was a small, backwater establishment that would be put to shame by a barracks in the Etrurian capital, but it was more responsibility than he had ever been given before. Normally he would have just been one of the simple soldiers, fighting for a fast buck, but this was different. He was fighting for a purpose beyond his own monetary gain. He'd come a long way from the simple mercenary he once was. His hand anxiously rested upon his sword handle. Instead of just worrying about himself, he'd be responsible for the lives of at least 120 men.
Richter was one step closer to his goal.
He turned back to the District-head. "I'm going to call for an assembly of the troops. As their commanding officer, I think it's right that they get to meet the man who will be in charge of them, and that I get to meet the men whose lives I will be responsible for." Richter held out his hand to stop a walking soldier. The soldier stopped and looked at Richter slightly angry. "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "Spread the message that I want all active soldiers out in the main area in 20 minutes," replied Richter. The soldier just scoffed. "What is this, a joke?" asked the soldier incredulously, looking Richter up and down. "Get back to your post mercenary, or I'll throw you in the stockades." Richter stepped back, slightly alarmed. Then he realized he had not changed into his uniform. He still looked like a ragged and dirty mercenary.
Richter was about to turn to the District-head for help, but he realized if he couldn't put this man in line, he'd get no real respect from the soldiers. "I'd get your facts straight before you make claims like that," said Richter, pointing his finger at the soldier. The soldier batted Richter's hand away. "I'm the commanding officer of this fort!" shouted the soldier. "You submit to me! Men, lock this merc up in the stocks for insubordination!" The argument had gotten the attention of many of the men in the fort. Richter wasn't looking at the District-head, but if he was, he imagined he'd look absolutley mortified. "I...I'd belay that if I were you," said Richter stuttered, but calmly continued, remembering the emblem he had been given before he had left the castle. He pulled out the gold plated, brass insignia of the Herald himself. "By order of the Herald, I have been declared a direct military assistant to the District-head," Richter said, nodding his head to the man behind him, "and as such, I am now the commanding officer of this fort." Richter paused as the man looked back from Richter, to the insignia, to the District-head, and back to Richter, his eyes widened in slight horror. Richter thrust the emblem back into his pocket. "Assemble the soldiers...now." The soldier saluted, half angry and half surprised, then ran off to do what Richter had asked.
He turned back to the District-head and sighed. He wasn't sure that would work. His time as a mercenary had taught him how to keep composure, so he was glad about that. "This is tougher than I thought. A bath sounds good right about now. I can change into my uniform when I'm done."
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Post by Kraft on Sept 9, 2009 13:34:42 GMT -6
The District-head was impressed by Richter. Somewhere this mercenary had found the courage to step up and face this rude soldier. He had never been a high ranking officer, nor has he ever had an official title or uniform. All of this he had achieved. Why? Because of fortune and faith. It was faith that had given him the courage and the privileges and the opportunity to change the world to his liking. His taste? Justice.
"But of course, my friend. I will tell some of the servants to get a bath ready. Gah! It's so dusty out here. . . But a good cause knows no bounds. It's a shame the Sacaens do not see it this way. We are here to forge an alliance through faith, not a war because of believe. Why can't things be simple?"
They reached the house of Richter and the District-head. It had a little more luxury then the other houses and barracks. It was chalked white and had some yellow and wooden ornaments, a small balcony and thin windows with wooden panels to keep the dust out. The chalk was rather filthy because of all the sand. With a few of their escorte following them, Richter and the DH (District-Head) arrived at the front door. The guards saluted. Something had happened in the absence of the DH. . . Men had become sloppy and dirty; unshaven and smelly. Luckily they still seemed to have fighting spirit and believe in a just cause. One symbol was everywhere; on flags, uniforms, walls, . . . the symbol of the High Inquisitor; The Prophet, his Greatness Kraft.
Richter was led to his room and the entire time the DH was chattering about the beautiful sunset, the beautiful plains, the rare kind of animals you found here in Sacae, the dangers of some of the tribes, the just cause he and (now) Richter fought for and so on... Opening the door, Richter saw a large room with a nice, wooden desk. It was a very clean room. A bit dark, perhaps. Behind the office, the faced the door, was an enormous painting of Kraft's symbol.
"Well, this is your office. That door there-" and the DH pointed at a door to the left, "Is your bathroom. And that door there-" and he pointed to the right, "Is your bedroom. I hope you'll like it. The room hasn't been used in a while. . . The previous Region Officer was killed in a . . . gruesome way, and noone was willing to, eh, replace him. That's why we met here. I also have something for you, but I'll give it to you after you've get to know the soldiers better."
The DH smiled and gently pushed Richter in the back and then shut the door behind him. In the bathroom was bath with steaming hot water and a fresh pair of clothes. It was the Black and white uniform of the High Inquisitor, with the rank of Region Officer on it. It was made from good material. It seemed to be some kind of uniform that you had to wear over your armour. For now, Richter could think things over and relax. He had come a long, long way.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 9, 2009 23:40:54 GMT -6
Richter stripped and tenderly stepped into the warm bath. It was hot, but his body adjusted to the heated water. Slowly, he slid under the surface. The warmth felt good against his sore and tired body. It had been awhile since he had bathed, and even longer since it had been a peaceful bath like this. Richter sighed contently. He almost felt at peace.
Richter splashed water on his face and looked around. For a soldier's house, even an officer's house, this place was pretty nice, especially compared to the dustiness and drabness of the fort. The fort had a very tired feel, but this house was freshly painted, perhaps for his arrival, and the wood work and furniture was relatively ornate. He may be a scum, but the High Inquisitor treated his men well.
After cleaning and bathing, Richter pulled himself out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel, drying himself off. As he did, he noticed a large mirror. Looking at himself in the mirror, Richter noticed the scars on his body. They're weren't excessive, but they were more than any merchant or farmer would have. They came from a lifetime of fighting. Each one stood for a battle. Combat was inscribed on his body. Was that all he was? A tool for endless fighting?
Richter ran a finger over a scar on his face. That one was fairly new. He had gotten that one when he visited a small town in Etruria. Bandits had struck, and he had been hired to help fend them off. A bandit was assaulting a young woman, and Richter had pulled the bandit off of her, only for him to wheel around and cut Richter in the face. He touched another scar on his chest. This one he had obtained working as a bodyguard for a low-class noble in Etruria. A rival had come to a meeting with an assassin in tow. The rival noble tried to have Richter's employer killed, but Richter ended up killing both the assassin and the noble. Each of these scars had a story. Some he had gotten doing good, and others not so much. He had lost his purpose in life. He didn't have one. Now he did. Richter Abend was a soldier for the Inquisitorial Army of Etruria, and he was going to use that position to achieve his goal: He would fight for a world where swords would no longer be necessary. In order to do that, he would need to become stronger.
Reaching over to a small table next to the mirror, Richter grabbed a razor. He'd need to look a little less scruffy now that he was an officer. Using the razor, Richter cut off and shortened his hair, then took a small cloth wristband he had gotten from his mother a long time ago in Ilia, and tied some of his hair in a ponytail. He was about the shave his face, when he stopped. He kind of liked his beard. He was still fairly young, and the beard made him look older. He'd need some semblance of age to garner the respect of these men.
Richter then reached down and picked up his new uniform. It was nice; a lot nicer than the uniforms his subordinates had. Putting it on, he looked at himself in the mirror. He almost looked like a soldier. Turning out of the bathroom, Richter noticed the District Head had left. He left his house and eyed a soldier who had been placed on guard next to his doorway. The guard turned towards Richter, lifted his hand and gave a half-hearted salute. "The men will be assembling shortly, sir," he said. Richter nodded. "Good," replied Richter, turning towards the rest of the fort. It was time to see if Richter could actually live up to his dream.
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Post by Kraft on Sept 10, 2009 13:43:11 GMT -6
(OoC: I love the uniform. I see what you did there. A winner is you!)
The soldiers had assembled in front of Richter. It was clear that this region of Sacae had taken its toll on these men. They were tired, jumpy and clearly needed a strong hand to lead them. They hadn't found that in their previous Region Officers, who were killed, nor had they found it in the DH, who was nothing more than a glorified pastor with political skill. They had to admit that he was a nice man, though. Maybe a little hard on the Sacaens, but who wouldn't be? These bastards were wild! They were savages! They killed and stealed! They murdered their missionaries and tortured their soldiers! Rumours and facts became one in the fort and the soldiers were on the verge of considering the Sacaens to be animals, not future fellow-citizens and believers.
On the balcony of Richter's house, the District-Head was watching the ranks. One hundrerd twenty men. It wasn't that much. Reinforcements were bound to come, he knew that. Things were. . . happening. Plans were set in motion. Why had he ever volunteered for this place? Perhaps because of the feeling that he, like Richter, could make a difference towards a better world. A unified Elibe, where everyone obeys One Law and One Law only; that of the High Inquisitor. Eventually, there will be peace and paganism will be gone. A worthy dream, the DH thought.
The soldiers stood in the blazing sun. Stiff and truth and as clean as they could get with all the dirt flying through the fort. The lower-ranking officers stood in front. Only 8 of them were left. No promotions had been made since the death of the last Region Officer. The soldiers looked at Richter with a unimpressed glare. This young boy was going to show them how things worked? Then again, they had heard whispers that he had met the Prophet and the Herald. If this was true, he might be. . . a new hope. . . After this awkward silence, the soldiers saluted in unison and greeted their new Region Officer. Now, they waited for his orders.
The District Head watched, and he was worried. He had high hopes for Richter. If this man became a big-shot, then. . . then his flattering and presents would pay off and he could win the grace of the Herald and the Prophet. . . In the palm of his hand, the closed letter of the Herald was burning. He was dieing to read it, but he it was sealed and ment for Richter's eyes only. It had to be given after Richter was properly in place as a Region Officer.
Salvation might have come.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 10, 2009 21:13:13 GMT -6
Richter stopped and looked out at the crowd of men in front of him. He had to admit, 120 soldiers with probably just as much or more battle experience than him. They're doubtful and tired gazes didn't inspire much confidence in Richter, but nonetheless, he had called them here to talk to them, so that's what he would do. He wasn't going to be stood up to by a bunch of hopeless soldiers. If anything, he was going to attempt to inspire hope in them. He cleared his throat once. He'd have to make this good; have a strong first impression.
Putting his hands together behind his back, Richter stood up straight. "Gentlemen!" he said loudly, making sure everyone could here him. He got no reaction from the soldiers, which was a little discouraging, but he continued. "I'm pretty sure none of you know me, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Richter Abend." Richter paused and began down the steps from his house towards his men. "I am your new Region Officer, and as such, you will treat me with the respect you have given your previous Region Officers." He stopped halfway down the steps. "If you haven't shown your previous Region Officers respect, well now is the time to start," said Richter, beginning once again down the stairs. His words were met with a few furrowed brows. "We may be stuck in this forsaken land on an order, but that doesn't mean we aren't going to do our jobs."
Richter reached the bottom of the steps and looked around once more. "Looking at you all now," started Richter, "I'd have to say the previous Region Officer was pretty lax in his duties. You look like you have no order and you're all ready to lay down and die." After he spoke, many of the soldiers began to mutter among themselves. Richter began walking through the ranks. "I am no freshmeat kid straight out of Military School. I'm a fighter, and I've seen plenty of battles. Up until recently, I was a mercenary-for-hire." After saying this, the soldiers quieted down and looked at Richter with confusion. "In fact, I wasn't even born Etrurian. I was born in Ilia." A number of soldiers began to get angry as Richter said this. Who was this lowly Ilian mercenary, telling them what to do? "Take that fact to heart, because our mission is to assimilate the Sacaens, not exterminate them."
"I'm expecting I'm going to be running this fort a bit differently than your previous commanders. As for how I will, well, you'll just have to find out for yourselves." Richter stopped right in the center of the group. "First things first: tomorrow morning at sunrise, I want all soldiers not on shift to assemble at the training grounds. All soldiers on shift during the training session will assemble after dinner for their training." Richter turned towards the officers at the front of the group. "I will call a meeting with the officers tomorrow. You are all dismissed!" Richter crisply saluted, and his soldiers did the same, many of them not as crisply. As the soldiers went back to what they were doing, Richter stood in place. His speech wasn't anything inspiring. He hadn't expected it to. He wasn't a speaker like the Herald. Richter just called the soldiers so that they'd know where he stood. He'd prove his ability through his actions. That's what all men are measured by in the end.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 12, 2009 19:39:56 GMT -6
Clair swept down from the sky and landed, about a half mile from the fort. She had started traveling in Illia with a friend, Haine a caravan master. He made regular trips on the path from Illia to Sacae. Once she had reached the plains, she had decided to strike out on her own to find employment.
Her pegasus, Corona, landed lightly. He was young and energetic, and still liked to frisk. After settling him she scratched the swirl of hair, about the size of her palm, that was onhis shoulder and dismounted. She was approaching on foot, hoping to work out some of the stiffness, garnered from a days ride.
She had heard many rumors about a prophet named Kraft who had sent his people here to spread the word of hope, or dominate the countryside, depending on who told the tale. She had also heard that the local fort was recruiting mercenaries. Clair was beginning to run low on supplies, and needed a way to gain more. She was well aware of the many uses that flying units had, and she had every intention of gaining as high a salary as she could.
As for the Prophet, she would make up her mind about him after she knew more.
By now, she had approached the gates and was being challenged from the walls.
"Hold there! State your business!" A shout came down from the walls.
Clair tried to make her voice as loud, and clear as she could as she replied, "I am Clair Feldsky, Trained Pegasus Squire! I've come to speak of recruitment with yo-"
"Yeah, Yeah. Just fly over. It takes too long to open up this d**n gate!" The guard shouted back.
Clair thought she saw him mutter something dirty before spitting. She was fuming at his dismissal of her, but he had already walked away from the battlements. They seemed to be lacking in the discipline and courtesy departments.
Seeing no alternative, she climbed on Corona, and prompted him quickly over the walls. She needed to find a recruiting officer.
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Post by Kraft on Sept 13, 2009 11:49:40 GMT -6
The District Head walked towards Richter.
"Not a man of words, I guess?" He chuckled and put a fatherly hand on Richter's shoulder before gently pushing him inside. Inside, the DH dismissed servants and guards and closed the doors. From his robe, he produced a sealed letter, with the insigna of the Herald and the Prophet. The DH smiled at Richter and stroked his sideburns.
"It seems to be a letter. I have been given orders to give it you after you established yourself as the new Region Officer. Read it. I do not know the content, nor do I wish to know it, it is for your eyes only." Before walking off, the DH smiled at Richter once again; "It seems you made quite the impression." Chuckling the DH walked off, and he silently left the room. Richter soon found himself alone and reading the letter;
"Richter Abend,
I hope that some impressions and teachings will last forever in a troubled heart like yours. You may encounter happenings that will revolt you or may seem unfair to you in the chase of Justice and Truth. But remember that an omelet can not be made without the breaking of eggs. As much as I regret the breaking of the eggs (I do!) I cannot think of another way that will spawn results. Remember the true faith and the vision of a new world that you can help establish. With this being said, it is with a grave heart that I give these orders;
Ostia will be invaded. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. All Region Officers have been given this information. But you, you have been given it in a personal letter. I have put high hopes in you, Richter. I do not see you as a peon, but as a man who can create his own chances and who has a true heart (something others lack). Have faith. Read the teachings, remember my words.
Soon, a messenger will bring you the specific orders. Until then, train your men, get them ready. It will be messy, and eggs WILL be broken. But our goals is ONE Elibe, with ONE law. The law of Peace and Faith. Talks of peace with Ostia have failed and they have taken many hostage. We did not want it to come to this, but they forced our hand. We do not yield to oppressors. Do not show mercy to those who oppress, but be kind to the citizens. They (all of them) are part of a grand plan; yours and mine; a better world.
The Herald."
It seemed the man did not write as he talked and he had a rather beautiful handwriting. Underneath the text there was another seal, which indicated the truthness of the letter. Richter stood there reading and thinking when suddenly a guard burst in. It was one of the younger soldiers. He saluted quickly.
"Sir! There is a new recruit! Possibility of being a spy! From Ilia, sir!"
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 13, 2009 15:38:09 GMT -6
Richter was taking in the importance of the letter, when the soldier burst in. Richter turned towards the soldier, and raised an eyebrow, letter still in his hands. Could this be the messenger? No, it was far too soon. Besides, the recruit was Illian. Interested, Richter saluted to the soldier. "Lead the way," he said. The soldier nodded. "Right this way, sir!" responded the soldier, starting out the door. Richter put the letter back into the envelope, put it in a desk drawer, then followed the man out the door.
As they left, a guard at the door saluted. Richter saluted back, although a little off guard. He wasn't used to getting saluted wherever he went. Looking out from his door, he saw a cluster of soldiers gathered around what looked to be a pegasus. That seemed to be where they were headed. It made since, he recruit being Illian and all. Richter was already starting to feel a little nostalgic.
As Richter approached, he could hear the men clamoring at this rare sight on the plains of Sacae. He wasn't going to bother ordering the men to move, so he just pushed right on through. Standing next to the pegasus was a girl, probably not even 18, whose outfit looked distinctly like that of a Illian pegasus knight. Why is she way out here, all by herself? "Men, back up, give the girl some room," said Richter, waving his hand at the men casually. They took no heed. Realizing this, Richter turned towards the soldiers. "Back up, now," he said, a little sterner this time. Only a few soldiers took heed. "Soldiers! Back off, now!" barked Richter. Many of the men gave him dirty looks, but they obeyed orders. This wasn't a good chain of command. He shouldn't have to yell to get his men to obey him. Nevertheless, he turned to the girl. "I'm the Region Officer. What is an Illian girl like you doing here in Sacae?"
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 14, 2009 7:24:03 GMT -6
Clair sized up the gaggle of soldiers around her while dismounting her pegasus. She seemed to have garnered alot of attention already. Looking back, lofting over the walls on her pegasus, into a military fort no less, was probably not the best way to enter.
A man in what she assumed to be an officer's uniform approached. Now I'm getting somewhere, Clair thought to herself. Then she saw him trying to order his way through the crowd toward her. The men barely moved. she sighed. The officer finally did get through, but he had to outright yell at the men. It seemed that the man on the castle wall was not an isolated case.
Clair always got nervous before the negotiations of her mission. As the officer approached and questioned her about her business, she decided to tell him... what exactly?
She didn't know what title to address him by, so she made do with what she hoped was acceptable. "Sir, I've been traveling the lands of Sacae for several weeks now and I've realized that I need to get a job in order to keep from running out of supplies. I'm a trained and equipped Pegasus Squire; I'm sure that you could use one of my abilities...I've also heard news of a prophet in Etruria that you serve, and I'd like to learn more about him. So many different stories are around his name that I don't know which to believe. "
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 14, 2009 10:40:13 GMT -6
Richter held out his hand. "Well, in that case, glad to have you aboard," he said, a small smile on his face. "It might be nice to have somebody from the home country on board. Then again, I haven't been to Ilia in years." Richter looked around at the soldiers, then back at the girl. "You'll get soldier's pay and rations, though I'll probably have to find you and your pegasus special housing. Does that sound fair to you?"
Richter turned back to the soldiers. "Just another recruit men. Return to your duties!" he ordered. The soldiers grumbled and slowly left. At least they'd listen to him somewhat. Richter turned back to the girl, awaiting her reply.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 14, 2009 20:31:33 GMT -6
As they continued speaking, the officer dismissed the soldiers.
They left. Will wonders never cease? Clair thought to herself.
As the man held out his hand, she thought out his offer. A soldiers pay was actually fairly high for a mercenary, from what she'd learned. Commanders normally promised a sum to a merc, and then found a way to cut corners. Only men who cared about winning the loyalty of their troops made good on their payments.
Giving a satisfied smile she took his hand shook it. As she let go, she noticed his hands had well worn calluses on them. The mark of a warrior. This man knows about fighting.
"Clair Feldsky, Rider of Illia, yours to command. I imagine an officer like you would know what type of tasks pegasus knights are capable of but, if you feel the need, go ahead and ask. Pegasi are not common by any term of the word...forgive me,sir, but what should I address you by?"
Clair was excited by the prospect of negotiating her first contract.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 15, 2009 9:33:48 GMT -6
"My name is Richter Abend," said Richter. "She can't call me that, though, that would be out of line."
"You were good before," Richter said, "just keep calling me sir, or Region Officer if you ever need to be specific." He looked around. "Come with me, we'll go talk to the stable master about your living arrangements." Richter paused. He had to find the stable master without her knowing this was his first time walking about the fort. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. He noticed a few horsemen leading their horses in one direction, so he beckoned Clair to follow him and started after them.
After reaching the stable, Richter found the stable master. The stable master, who was working on making horseshoes, wiped his brow and saluted. "Oh, you must be the new Region Officer," he said quite eagerly. "I apologize I couldn't make it to the meeting, but one of the horses was having a problem with its hoof. I'm excited to be working with you." Richter sighed. There went his experienced look. Nevertheless, he was glad he had somebody in this fort who didn't see Richter as an annoyance. Richter pointed towards the stables. "Would you, by any chance, have a stall for a pegasus?" he asked. Sure, it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. The stable master rubbed his goatee, then nodded. "I think we have just the thing," he said, starting off into the stables. "Follow me, sir."
At the back of the stables was a larger horse stall that opened up into a small arena with fairly high walls. "This used to be the jousting area," said the stable master, "but after a while, the soldiers just stopped jousting. They'd rather just drink in their off time." Richter frowned. "Well that's going to have to stop," he thought, "drinking dulls the senses and reduces fighting performance." Richter turned to Clair. "Would this work? I mean, your pegasus would have to be smart enough not to fly away forever, but it'll keep the soldiers from doing anything to it," he said, motioning towards the 7 foot walls, "and it gives it plenty of room."
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 16, 2009 6:58:11 GMT -6
Clair followed Region Officer Abend, leading her pegasus along behind. As they reached the stables, Clair heard the ringing of a hammer on iron. The forge must be being put to use. As they approached, the stable master greeted richter as "the new region officer". Well she could see why they got rid of the old one. The discipline seemed terrible around here. The stable master was the only person she saw who even seemed to respect their leader.
He led Clair and the region officer down the stable's path until they came to a large stall which was opened onto a small arena which was open to the sky. A jousting area the stable master explained. She listened to the Region Officer's question before replying.
"This looks great. With this setup, I'll be able to launch as soon as I get Corona tacked up." Clair said, pleased with her new pegasus stall. "Oh, and he won't go beyond earshot. He'll stay close enough to the fort that I'll be able to call him."
Clair paused for a moment. Something that the officer said worried her a little. "Do you think your men will try and injure him, or something?"
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Post by Kraft on Sept 16, 2009 12:36:41 GMT -6
The District Head was carefully watching Richter and Clair. Odd. . . Another merc. While mercenaries weren't that special, Kraft's army was filled with them, he did find it weird that this peculiar kind of merc had arrived at the Fort. And at this time, nonetheless. Things were happening and all of the sudden this. . . woman arrived?
He made a mental note to tell Richter to interrogate her and to make sure she understood the ideals the Prophet's army stood for.
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