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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 16, 2009 16:50:20 GMT -6
Richter scratched the back of his head. "I'd like to think that they wouldn't, but I can't be sure. You saw how they acted when you got here. I wouldn't expect them to hurt your pegasus intentionally, but they aren't the most disciplined bunch around."
Richter rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. It felt like he was forgetting something. His eyes than wandered over to the District Head, and it popped back into his head. "Oh, right, since you're joining the High Inquisitor's army, you have to know what this army is fighting for." He paused. "Essentially, the goal of Etruria is to gather the continent under one rule to eliminate the petty conflicts that are the cause of most wars. For example, as one country, there would be no more wars over country borders." Richter turned and pointed towards the church. "I'm no theologian, just a soldier, so the best person to educate you on the theological specifics would most likely be one of the priests." Richter turned back to Clair, and gave a short, relaxed salute. "You're dismissed for now, but make sure to be at the training grounds by sunrise for training."
He liked this girl. It was probably because they shared a similar background, but he didn't feel the need for his usual callousness when he talked to her. Not waiting for permission to take leave, because, well, he didn't need to, Richter headed across the dusty ground back to his new home.
Walking into his house, Richter sat down at his desk and sighed. This was a hard job, but if anyone could do it, he could. He had to. How could he ever expect to be the greatest fighter in the world if he couldn't even hand 120 grumpy soldiers? Looking down, he found a fresh new copy of Elimine's teachings, with the Prophet's additions at the beginning. Skipping past the first section, Richter cracked open the book. If nothing else, reading relaxed him.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 17, 2009 9:58:14 GMT -6
Clair saluted him in return as he left, turning to watch as he walked away. She wasn't that worried for Corona. Pegasi may look frail to some, but she had seen the creatures knock over plenty of people, even drag them across the launch decks... Corona would be fine.
She considered what Richter had said about the reasons that the army trained. Gathering the world under one rule? That sounded imperialistic, Clair thought, but surely, less border squabbles would arise. Maybe then, her people would be able to move across the lands without being looked down upon. Maybe then, the Illians could find trades other than fighting to turn to.
"It will be interesting to have a pegasus stabled here. Tell me, do they use horseshoes?" The Stable Master asked, curiously.
"I suppose it differs for each rider," Clair replied. She had forgotten he was there. "but I've always used a barefoot trim."
He nodded his head in thought for a moment,"Hmm... Well I'll have some water troughs brought in, and throw some hay into the feeder -though I doubt he'll eat that, since he can just fly over the walls to get grass. If you need anything, come and get me. Now though, I'm off to work again!"
Clair waved as he went away. He seemed to really enjoy his job, and that made him enjoyable to work with, at least to her. She thought of her employer, or maybe more like commander? He was strong, and well spoken, and was clearly trying to put his best foot forward as the Region Officer. They both were having a first experience: her first mission, his first command.
A bump from a muzzle brought her back to the moment. She turned and stroked Corona before untacking him, and setting the various peices of harness on the ground near the stall. After inspecting the arena and showing Corona around it, she gave him instructions to not fly beyond earshot of the fort. Though no one knew the level of intelligence for pegasi, they would often obey instructions given by their rider.
She left the stables for the church. She would rest later. For that matter, she had no idea where her lodgings were. Right now though, she was too curious about this prophet. What would a man who fought to unite the land be like? She had never really been taught much from churches, martial training had dominated her life since a young age. She walked in and looked around.
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Post by Kraft on Sept 22, 2009 4:35:28 GMT -6
The District Head watched the newly acquired girl walk into the little church of the fort and he decided to follow her. He dismissed his guards and walked towards the girl. The DH was a bald man with enormous sideburns, which were white and fluffy. He had almost a comical look but he also radiated friendship, peace and zen.
The church was rather simple and it consisted of some church pews, some desks to read and at the end of the church were two portraits; that of the Saint and that of the Prophet. The Saint and the Prophet, united by the Holy Book. The Book lay on an altar in front of those portraits and it consisted of two parts; the original teachings of Saint Elimine and the additions by Kraft, The Prophet. Every temple had it's Holy Book that was there for reading, it was a very open religion and every day the soldiers of the fort gathered into the church to hear readings about peace and morals and friendship.
Inside a few monks and priests were praying our softly chatting. The DH walked up to Clair and asked; "You look lost, am I right?"
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 22, 2009 8:11:24 GMT -6
Clair turned when she heard a voice speaking to her, and found a bald man with large, white sideburns. He was dressed in finer clothing than the rest of the guard, perhaps even finer than the Region Officer. She didn't know who he was, but mercenaries usually did best to show respect to everyone.
It's like his face is framed in cotton, Clair thought to herself. She looked around at the church, hiding a grin, before speaking to him.
"Actually, Sir, I came in here because I'm newly hired as part of this army. The Region Officer told me that Etruria and the Prophet fight for a unified world. For peace. I can support that, but I want to know more about the leader who fights for these goals. Why does he fight these wars? What carries his allegiance." She looked at the man, at a loss for words.
Clair didn't know much of faith or politics, had little experience in the worlds of life and fighting, but she did have one strong desire that she held onto. Clair well and truly wished that her peoples homeland in the north could thrive, though she knew that little could be done for the frozen land of Illia.
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Post by Kraft on Sept 25, 2009 3:29:59 GMT -6
(OoC: Okay, I've been too hungover for all those days in a row. But now I'm okay.)
The DH let the words of the newly acquired soldier sink in for a few seconds. He had done this plenty of times. You acted friendly, you complimented them, and then -bang- you give them salvation and they will take it.
"The Prophet has had a tough life. He was just an honest working-class man, but one day he joined a group of vile murderers and bandits. He did not know that at first, but he learned their motives and they had one goal; to kill Saint Elimine. It was the Second Coming. She had come back from the grave to show the world that Peace HAD to return. But these bandits did not listen. They killed her, they slaughtered her, she, the woman that longed for a world where pain was non-existant. Before she died she had teached our Prophet and schooled him. It was from her that he learned the Holy and Good word."
He paused for a second, as if to think.
"Would you like a world where there is no pain? Only fairness and justice? Well, that's what he's trying to do. His only goal is to spread the Good Word of Saint Elimine and to try to make people understand this. When you understand the goodness of these words, you'll see what we're trying to do here. This is a perfect world in the making. These Sacaens. . . they don't understand. We offered them the Good Word, in friendship we came, we were here to HELP! But they attacked us. . . And sometimes, you'll have to fight fire with fire. . . We do not want to fight, but we have to defend ourselves and we have to stamp out wickedness and badness once and for all. And the war-cults of these Sacaens must be abolished for it proclaims war and blood, not peace and joy. . ."
He then patted Clair on the shoulder.
"Come! Sit! It's a lot to take in. I recommend this book;" And he took a copy of the Teachings of Saint Elimine and the Additions of the Prophet, "This is a study book, it's a bit old, but it'll do. I have a lot on my mind. . . If you don't mind, I'll go to my office. I strongly suggest you read the book. It's. . . relaxing and it broadens your mind."
The DH seemed to walk off, but before he was entirely gone and turned around and said;
"Oh, and what's your name? I'm sure you'll do great, by the way."
He smiled and bowed lightly.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Sept 29, 2009 13:51:54 GMT -6
She took in what the man had said. About the Prophet's origins, St Elimine, and what the mighty leaders goal was. She looked at the book he had given her and felt it's weight.
Before the man left, he asked her name.
"Clair Feldsky, pegasus squire." She answered him.
She thanked him for helping to clear up some of her questions and then settled down to read the book that he had recommended. She would need to dovote at least some time to finding out what the words of the book were, so she settled down to read some.
Later that night, she found temporary lodging in one of the rooms that the missionaries usually used. There was a small storage shed being converted into a living quarters near the stables. That would provide a more permanent lodging, and allow her to get to Corona faster than otherwise.
So ended the first day of Clair's new occupation: Soldier in the High Inquisitor's Army.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 30, 2009 19:16:03 GMT -6
OoC: Time-Skip!
The dawn sunlight shone through the window. Slumped over his desk with a book in his hand, Richter stirred. The quiet murmur of morning voices met his ears. Blinking groggily and rubbing his eyes, Richter looked up. Morning? But that meant he had fallen asleep. He bolted up. The soldiers were waiting out on the training grounds! Slamming his copy of Elimine's teachings back into his desk, Richter grabbed his commander's cloak and draped it over his shoulder and fastened his pauldron over it. Quickly making for the door, he paused, his hand on the handle. He couldn't make it seem like he was in a hurry. That would imply he was late, and the soldiers would know it. If he arrived casually, he'd be right on time. He WAS the commander. He couldn't be late if he didn't want to. Assuming his usual air of smugness, Richter slowly opened the door and strolled outside.
When he arrived at the training area, Richter was met with the sight of the soldiers casually mulling around, save for two soldiers, twins by the looks of it, who looked like they had been standing their for hours. "Men, line up!" barked Richter. A few soldiers quickly fell in line with the first two, but most took their time. "Line up!" barked Richter again. The slow moving soldiers quickened their pace a bit, but not to any such speeds that showed they respected Richter in the least. Heck, they didn't even look like they respected themselves. After all the soldiers lined up, Richter took a quick look around. He didn't see the mercenary from the day before. Her name was Clair, wasn't it? Was she late, or was she not coming?
Richter walked up to the first two soldiers. "Names," commanded Richter coolly. "Randolf!" said the first loudly, saluting. "Rudolf!" said the second loudly, saluting. Richter mentally sighed. "Great," he thought, "not only do they look the same, but their names are the same too." Richter, one hand on his hilt, saluted back. "I like your enthusiasm soldiers. Keep it up." "Thank you, sir!" they said in unison. "You can relax now," said Richter. The two soldiers unstiffened slightly. Another soldier laughed and rolled his eyes, but it didn't escape Richter's notice. Calmly, Richter walked up to him.
"Name?" he asked. The soldier sighed. "James Parsons," the man replied, slightly haughty. "I was the assistant to the old Region Officer." Richter, unresponsive, turned away. "Good for you, and I don't care. You will stand straight and quiet like everyone else." James scowled, grabbing his sword hilt. "What makes you think you can talk to me like that, mercenary?" Richter slowly turned back to him, stone faced. "I'm your commanding officer. I can talk to you however I want," said Richter, a snide smirk drawing itself on his visage. Growling, James began to draw his sword. "No discipline at all..." thought Richter, partially astonished. "I'd never draw my sword against an employer." Reactively, Richter began to draw his own.
Both drew their blades and stood facing each other, much to the astonishment of the rest of the men. "This will be a good way to start off our training today: a warm up," Richter announced. "Warm up, huh?" the obstinate soldier replied. "Of course," responded Richter, raising an eyebrow. "Like you said, I'm just a mercenary. Did you think I achieved my position because of status?" James flinched a bit. "So, are you ready?" Richter stood at the ready, and James paused. He looked at Richter's sword, then at Richter's face. Frowning, he shook his head and sheathed his sword. "No, I'm fine," he said, getting back in line. Richter's words had done the trick. He had no idea how good a fighter this man was. That was part of the purpose of this session: to see how good his men were. Richter tilted his head. "It's still training, we're going to be sparring anyways. Pair up into twos. Anyone left without a partner can spar me." The twins rapidly drew their swords and faced each other, ready to fight. Slowly, the rest of the soldiers followed suit. It looked like they had even numbers. "Alright then, begin. I will be walking around to evaluate you." With that, the soldiers began clashing away.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 1, 2009 9:25:26 GMT -6
Clair had stayed up quite late reading the book that had been given her. She was in awe of what it was he was trying to accomplish: the remaking of the world into a unified paradise where war was left behind. All would live under his divine rule. Those who didn't follow him obviously didn't truly desire peace and prosperity for all...did they? Regardless, her late night reading had caused her to sleep in too late.
She grabbed a "bread stick" as she ran through some of the rooms in the church, only to spit it out when she discovered it was a chalk board eraser.
"I'm late! I'm late! My first day, and I'm late! Ohhhhh...." were the thoughts that filled her mind as she rushed out to the stable.
She quickly tacked up Corona, putting on her armor at the same time, and led him out to the main yard where the soldiers trained. She got there just in time to see the men of the fort start sparring. She approached the area, not entirely sure what to do, or where to go.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 4, 2009 8:30:47 GMT -6
Richter walked from group to group, gauging his soldiers' performance. Many of them were decent fighters, but none of them were all that good. They had no style or technique. The way they fought was crude and course, probably due to their time out here in these harsh Sacaen plains. His eyes wandered over to James. He was one of the worst. He had a strong sword arm, but his reactions were slow and his footwork was not existent. It was then Richter noticed Clair arrive.
One hand behind his back, Richter waved at Clair. "Soldier, you're late. You're gonna spar me."
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 4, 2009 19:22:36 GMT -6
Clair looked over and noticed her new CO. He was beckoning to her.
"Soldier, your late. You're gonna spar me." He said to her.
Apparently, he wasn't going to make a big deal of her being late (At least not now.), so she wouldn't either.
"Sorry sir. Yes sir. " She replied, drawing her slim lance from the harness on her pegasus. She had sparred a few times with "live" weapons, but was a little nervous whenever she did it. She took a deep breath, and turned.
She stepped a good distance away from Corona and assumed a ready position. She knew that some sky riders trained almost exclusively for combat from their mount's back, but that didn't seem like a good idea to Clair. She'd rather be combat ready wherever she went than be untrained for close quarters fighting.
"I'm guessing we're using real weapons for this?" she said as she hefted her weapon, her voice just tentative enough to give away her nervousness. She held the weapon reversed, point away from her opponent. Since a spear was primarily used for stabbing, it made sense for her to use the blunt end of the weapon.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 4, 2009 20:07:25 GMT -6
Richter raised an eyebrow at Clair's reversed spear. Considering he was trained in the sword, not spear, he'd just remain silent. "Fake weapons train you for fake battles. Real weapons train you for real battles. Don't be nervous, just focus," replied Richter. This is where his practical, mercenary side came in. Most officers probably would have used wooden swords, but Richter decided that since most if not all of these soldiers had seen combat before, they knew how to handle a sword and they knew how not to kill somebody.
"Alright, let's begin," said Richter coolly. With a flourish of his blade, he stepped forward and began with a horizontal strike towards Clair's midsection.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 6, 2009 17:44:00 GMT -6
Clair noticed his slightly raised eyebrow toward her weapon. He may be skeptical about a reversed weapon, but he shouldn't underestimate the power behind a blow from the stave of her weapon, even from a young girl.
He stepped in and struck with his blade. He was faster than she had anticipated. Originally she had intended to attack directly, using the haft of her lance as a weapon, but with him closing the distance, she needed to change tactics.
Flipping her grip on the slim lance to the back, with hands spread apart for stability, she stepped back and caught the sword blow just under the spear head. The leverage of two hands easily stopped the strike from her opponent.
Now, having the advantage of being just out of range for a sword, and in a good position to throw a counter-thrust, she struck back. Clair thrusted the tip towards the shoulder of Richter's non-sword arm.
She was juggling trying maintain enough control, and playing the distance game to try to stay out of range from her opponent. All-the-while she was still nervous about live weapons practice. She wasn't sure she liked training with real weapons, but her officer had told her to not be nervous... Heh, she was trying.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 6, 2009 23:19:10 GMT -6
Richter sidestepped the thrust. Her parry showed promise, but her inexperience showed through her attack. It was far too straight forward. No creativity. It showed nervousness. That, or she was an incredibly skill actor. Richter assumed the former, considering the move was incredibly sloppy.
Grabbing the shaft of her lance, Richter yanked it towards himself, his palm out. Not all strikes needed to be made with the sword.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Oct 7, 2009 19:50:23 GMT -6
Clair thought she was going to tag him (thats what she was trying for), but he slipped to the side of her strike. The next thing she knew, there was a strong jerk on her weapon and it was either lose her spear, or hang on. Clair hung on.
As she was pulled forward she lost her footing, and fell into an open palmed strike from Richter. She soon recovered her footing though, and swung a quick strike at his shins, from his left, while backing away. She got set for another round.
She thought about the move he had pulled and tried to come up with a way to counter it the next time. Her head was still clearing from getting hit when they continued.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 8, 2009 10:14:40 GMT -6
Richter hopped left over the strike, Clair's lance barely missing his shins. "You're doing well, but your nervousness is affecting your technique. Take a deep breath," said Richter. It was what his father had always told him.
Taking a deep breath as well, Richter lunged forward, right leg first, and swung down at Clair's shoulder.
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