Two Sides of the Same Coin (Richter/Rayl)

[Richter Abend]

OoC: This support takes place sometime after the Battle with Ariston, but before Rayl and Richter depart the ruins of the fort.

Richter sat outside his tent, whittling down the wooden shaft of a spear he had found with the knife he always kept under his pillow. It was a nervous habit of Richter's, whittling. He tended to do it just before a march. The swordsman didn't know why, he just did. He wasn't a carpenter and he wasn't a craftsman, so usually the pink haired Ilian just shaped out spikes. It was a shape any mercenary was familiar with since they, while on a campaign, usually had to come up with junk to stake their tents down while the enlisted men had the luxury of metal stakes.

Richter had just been breaking the shaft into chunks then whittling off a spike and tossing it on the ground next to him. He had a nice little pile going. With nothing else on his mind, the commander's thoughts began to wander. Rayl had brought up some issues that Richter hadn't fully thought through before. Sure he had his destinations ahead of him, but the consequences of his actions? Was he really prepared for them? Was he ready to be hunted across the entirety of Elibe by a Prophet who would do anything to eliminate the shame incurred upon him by a lowly, treacherous, Ilian mercenary? Richter had cut through the Prophet's Sacaen ambitions in a swathe of blood. How far was he willing to take it? Like it or not, Richter had entered the big leagues, and thus his once "big ideals" began to look a little smaller having been thrust into a much larger world.

How did Rayl do it? How did he shoulder the burdens all of his men without losing sight of his own goals? Could it be Rayl just didn't have any goals of his own? Hate and vengeance still burned like a fire in Richter's heart, and his vow to end the Prophet remained, but after killing one of the men he swore to destroy, Richter didn't feel much closer to victory. Being a leader was such a new concept to him. Sure he had gotten his men this far, but not without the help of heroes and dragons. Besides, Richter wasn't going to be able to take down the Prophet just by fighting his generals. Fighting was all the pink haired swordsman had ever known, and frankly, the thought of anything else worried him. He had never wanted to be a hero, but now it seemed that the world was demanding it from him.

Learning to lead was one thing, but how to lead was another. Rayl seemed to act with such mercy and compassion, which was something Richter couldn't do. The world was a harsh place. Richter knew this first hand. He knew Rayl wanted the Prophet dead as much as he did, but you couldn't defeat a tyrant by bending a knee to his troops. Rayl, however, did it anyways. He put the lives of his enemies so high, and that Richter would never agree with. To Richter, victory had always been keeping your enemies dead and your allies alive, and that wouldn't change. For Elibe to have piece, the Prophet, the Herald, their armies, and their twisted faith had to die by any means necessary. Of this Richter had no doubt.

Richter Abend the Ilian mercenary might have died five years ago, but a whole new Richter Abend was being born, and Richter wasn't sure who that man was yet.

[Rayl Torien]

As the Araphen troops, having buried their dead and prepared a wagon filled with the armor of their fallen comrades, Rayl stood nearby Richter with his back turned, gazing out across the sea of grass, beautiful still, even when scarred with the fires of war. He didn't say anything for awhile, listening to the sound of his friend's whittling...

...oh whittling...one of his many hobbies back when he was a small boy working in the stables back at the ranch, when not daydreaming of being a knight, that is. Eyes still closed he began to clear his throat for awhile before speaking softly, not turning around," It's hard...isn't it? Being a commander...the choices you make not only affect the battle, but the battles to come..." Eyes now open as he pivoted about slowly to face the Ilian Mercenary, before he knelt down to rest: he'd been attending to the exit plans for some time now and had not had much time to recuperate from the battle, and was surely in need of it.

" You did well though: You saved many of your men and mine. But regardless...the road before you now will be much harder." He paused for awhile, and began setting his weapons down on the ground before him: his new lance, his sword, and the axe he had traded Lady Aevian with. Once down he finally sat down with a sigh.

"...I would go with you if I could, you know this my friend. I would fight by your side until The Prophet fell by your Blade and my Lance..." He had informed Richter previously of not only current position in Pherae and Lycia as a whole; of the plans of a United Lycia and of his addressing the Ilian Emissary in Bern. Clearly they would not ride together again for some time.

"...I am taking the remainder of Ariston's men with me back to Pherae. If we learn anything about The Prophet's plans from them I'll send a message to you by Wyvern Rider."

...alright maybe he hadn't explained how his actual division consisted of troops from practically every Nation, but that was hardly an important detail.

OOC: Richter is promoting to Hero, right?

[Richter Abend]

OoC: Correct

Richter nodded slowly. The paladin was right.
"It is hard," replied the Ilian, dropping another spike to the ground and snapping his last piece of broken spear shaft in half. "Five years ago, back when we were fleeing from the Prophet's men in Delphia, I would have never imagined I'd have come so far. I always assumed I'd still be rotting in some bounty hunting office or running around with some mercenary company. Being killed on the battlefield wouldn't have been too far from expectations either." He looked up at Rayl.

"I may have saved men, but is it enough? I'd been fighting so long before I got here, I'd lost faith in making my vision a reality. Now that I'm commander of this company and victory seems that much closer, the road ahead seems that much longer." Richter winced as he accidentally cut himself with his knife. Shaking his injured thumb, he dropped the wood he was holding and sheathed his knife.

"...I am taking the remainder of Ariston's men with me back to Pherae. If we learn anything about The Prophet's plans from them I'll send a message to you by Wyvern Rider," said Rayl.

The rebel commander looked back at the paladin.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? I can't imagine a contingent of Etrurians marching into Lycia will go unnoticed by the Prophet. One rat and your operation risks being compromised."

[Rayl Torien]

"I know Richter, but it's safer for me to take them, lest they attack your smaller amount of forces on your way to Ilia. Besides: all men can change...you did...I did...perhaps even Ariston did. Maybe he had once been a young man full of hopes of peace...of course that does not condone his actions.

he began stretching, trying to fight back a yawn, which escaped as a long , whispy sigh.

"...We've both come a long way...when we went our separate ways five years back, I returned a hero of sorts: Apparently the title of Hargus Slayer stuck...next thing I knew I was in the royal guard, at the Marquess' side while partaking in the hunt. He took a liking to me and we became friends and...well, now I'm Commander and Ambassador of Pherae...you can see why I have my hands so full." he didn't seem too happy despite the fact this had been what he had dreamed of since he was a child. Odder still was when he changed the subject to something rather...odd.

"You know of Barigan, the only Paladin to reach the title of Holy Knight right? He fought in The Scouring and is the founder of your homeland, right?" something was going on with his thoughts right now, and yet...he was going somewhere with this, and he wasn't too sure what...

[Richter Abend]

Richter knew how Rayl felt, although he had befriended rather malignant allies. One day he had been a faithless, hopeless mercenary walking about the streets of Delphia, and a few days later he had been assumed into the Etrurian army and made a High Officer and initial leader of the Prophet's forces in Sacae. It was your atypical story of rags to nicer looking rags. Now, after becoming a pupil of the Herald, he had killed one of Etruria's best generals and was officially the biggest thorn in the Prophet's side. As far as dirty rebels go, Richter was doing pretty well.

But then came the question of Barigan. Who in Ilia didn't know of Barigan?
"Of course I know of Barigan," replied the Ilian swordsman. "He was a slayer of dragons and a hero of men. He's the ideal warrior that all Ilian's strive to be like."

[Rayl Torien]

As Richter spoke highly of Barigan, Rayl found a smile slowly creep across his face, but it soon diminished as he began to speak again,"Then I am sure you have visited the Tomb of Barigan, lost in the blizzards of Ilia? In recent times it has seen no visitors...save for myself." with this, he found himself reach for his cloak, feeling the tattered garb with pride. It was the only thing upon his armor that did not seem to shine with a divine light and yet...there was something about it that was divine in it's own right: The worn scarf of a great fighter five years dead.

"I traveled there to pay homage to the greatest Paladin to ever ride in Elibe. To light the candles that had long since been extinguished. I had fallen asleep there and...there he was, as plan as the nose on my face. He told me many things, my friend. When I awoke, I thought it was all a dream, and yet I was no longer wearing my armor I was wearing..." he waved a hand down his armor, oddly without a single blemish or streak of blood upon it, and could swear they saw it flicker with light for a brief moment,"He gifted me with his armor...perhaps he thought I would be some great hero, but wouldn't a hero turn away from all other duties for the greater good of mankind? Wouldn't he stop at nothing to smite an evil that plagues humanity?"

Smiling again, he reached out and placed an armored hand on Richter's shoulder," Now if I was truly a hero I would do just that: I would stop at nothing to rid the world of The Prophet, and put my duties as an Ambassador and even as a Pheraen Knight aside...No...there is only one true hero in this camp. One who has given up everything else for one cause to help his world. You are a true hero." he looked up the Etrurian troops, working or resting," You are taking the initiative and are the one who is battling all odds...making many sacrifices...unlike you, I am just a Servant, nay, a Slave for the People..."

He removed his hand to grab his sword in his left hand and axe in his right,"...These are the words Barigan spoke to me, friend." rising to his feet, he held the two weapons out for the Hero of Ilia, "All I can do is offer you aid. I pray these will serve you well as they have me." soon he relaxed a little, and tried to squeeze in some humor,"Besides you may need them when some spearman tries to turn you into a puppet."

[Richter Abend]

Listening to Rayl's words, Richter took the sword and axe in his hands, staring back to the paladin.

"There are many types of heroes," replied the Ilian swordsman. "You have saved the lives of more men than I. If it was up to me, all those men who you're taking to Pherae would be dead." Richter shook his head slowly. "I have nothing to sacrifice. No family to leave behind, and no dreams to compromise. If my desire to kill the Prophet at all costs makes me a hero, then so be it."

Placing the axe Rayl handed him on the ground, he placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder.
"Don't speak badly of yourself, friend. If my heroism comes from destroying the Prophet and his twisted faith, then yours comes from assisting me in doing so. Yours comes from uniting the people of Elibe under one banner. From saving lives."

"I may not have divine armor like yours," replied Richter, running a hand down his own, slashed, bloodstained armor. "Nor visions from legendary heroes from old, but if this is the path that I must walk, I will." The Ilian nodded his head. The Lycian's words meant much to him. "I wish you could come with me, but I thank you for your aid, and I will do what I can to make sure we end the Prophet's reign once and for all." He nodded to the axe. "And who knows, maybe the Prophet's guards will all fight with lances."

[Rayl Torien]

"Nothing to sacrifice but your life...and I can see you've already done that..."

He let those rather deep words trail off as he looked down to his friend's armor, a slight frown on his face.

"...I can to see to getting you some new armor: it's not known, but Pheraen smithies are fairly gifted when it comes to armor crafting. I'll try to send it by Wyvern when it's ready...you'll be needing it: The Royal Guardsman of our lands always tend to use ceremonial spears and swords." with this, he picked up his lance and rose to a standing position, strapping the lethal weapon to the saddle of Elibe, the massive Charger mix merely watching the soldiers running about with disinterest:

"Once I return to Pherae, I will inform the Marquess of the situation in Sacae: I'm sure he will add pressure to Laus and Caelin. Once Lycia is all reunited I'll make for Ilia. Fare thee well, friend, I must make sure my men are ready to ride out...oh, and learn to use a shield: It's more helpful than you'd think." with this he saddled up onto Elibe, turning in the saddle to give the Ilian a salute, before riding off down the row of tents.

EDIT: Don't forget to add the two weapons to your inventory/signature.

[Richter Abend]

Richter shook his head in decline.
"I'd like to accept your offer," replied the Ilian commander, "seeing as how my armor is a pretty trashed. Not to mention it's Etrurian." Richter glanced at his armor. It had seen him through a lot, but considering it was the hand-me-down armor of a crazed Etrurian High Officer, he wouldn't be sorry to see it go. "However, I wouldn't want to get you involved any further than you have to. Besides, it's going to be hard tracking down an army on the march just for a suit of armor. I'll figure something out."

Richter watched the Pheraen canter down through the tents of his soldiers. Glancing at his left hand, he muttered.
"A shield. Mavick said that too," he said under his breath. The rebel commander tilted his head, looking at the axe and sword Rayl had given him. Two weapons seemed more useful than a weapon and a shield, especially with his fighting style. Besides, the sword Rayl had given him was lighter than Richter's normal sword. He could easily use it in his off hand. Rising to his feet, Richter strapped the new sword and axe to his back. It was almost time to move out.

[Rayl Torien]

Rayl had Elibe halt it's casual progress down, and the paladin once again turned around to face his friend," As you wish. If the time comes you need any assistance...anything at all, send a messenger, I will do all that I can. Now I must take final count. Fare thee well...officially, this time."

Thus he and his prized warhorse continued down the tents, soldiers lining up and standing at attention, both Etrurian and Araphen, but they were not on his mind at the time. shaking his head slightly as a grin shone on his face, he looked skyward for a brief moment at the sky, clear and empty unlike the rain that had been plaguing them, Oh Richter my friend, when will you realize how much you have done for our world? Each and every one of your men are willing to fight and die under your command...each and every one are willing to serve a hero as great as you.

[end support B.]