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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jan 16, 2011 18:34:14 GMT -6
The tales which follow are meant to represent some of the events which took place "offscreen", in Illia. They will follow the lives of Clair Feldsky's parents, Hera, and Roderick Feldsky, unless otherwise marked... Also, I'm changing my mind about Rod's class. Consider him a bow focused Yeoman now. Lol These events take place shortly after Clair leaves home, and will follow through the next year. Meaning, that they will start at about the same time Clair joins Richter in Salvation Point, and will possibly go up until she returns to Ilia with Commander Richter a little over a year later. Feel free to comment. I'll be combining all of my posts into the first post, as well as leaving them scattered individually. (Please note that this was started before we had a marked location for Edessa. I'll be attempting to fix with edits later.) Notable Characters: -Hera Feldsky- A Falcoknight who traveled the lands, and gained a reputation for dropping like a thunderbolt, to the battlefield, and scattering opposition with the fury of her strikes. Now serves to aid in securing Illia's main cities from bandits, by assisting ground forces with reconnaissance, and aerial support, under her Commander. Is the second in command of her Commander's falcoknight group squadron. Based out of Edessa at the start of the story.  -Roderick "Rod" Feldsky- A Yeoman, who is particularly sensitive to timing and scheduling. Said to be able to hit flying targets at maximum range, no matter the weapon: Bow, longbow, or Ballista. His precision and timing makes him nearly irresistible on the battlefield, turning the enemies own movements to his advantage. Now serves as a patrolling guard, protecting Illia's main cities under his Commander. Based out of Edessa at the beginning of the story. -Commander Ellen Tamrian- A successful Commander of Illian Falcoknights, Ellen leads Hera's squadron in patrol, rescue, and search and destroy missions. Is somewhat distant, but considers the Feldskys friends. Unmarried  -Commander Tormod Grisham- The Commander of the guards patrolling the roads and region near Edessa. A business like man, yet tolerant of the quirks of his subordinates for as long as they perform well. Married, and is about to become a Grandfather. Is a Halberdier well trained in both axe and lance.  -Lieutenant Tormod Dawson- Rod's partner, and close friend. He considers himself a hero, and has the skill in blades and axes to back it up. Far more casual than any officer ought to be, he's been living paycheck to paycheck because he's had most of his pay docked. Reason: Caught several times flirting with the ladies while on duty. Sharing his Commander's first name has not aided him, and has led most to call him by his last name. |
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jan 16, 2011 19:16:49 GMT -6
Hera Feldsky closed the door to their small quarters, built off the side of the city's defensive wall, shutting out the frigid cold of the Illian night. It was cold inside. That was not something she was used to. Perhaps she never would grow used to it.
It had been only a few short weeks since her daughter, Clair had left to pursue her martial skills outside of the country. It was something that nearly all pegasus knights did, once they'd graduated past their training, but Clair was only seventeen. Would she be ok? Who would look after her, encourage her, or make sure she wasn't making any critical mistakes with her weapon? The Mother felt a tear form, and run down her cheek. Clair had gone forth, as every young sky warrior should, but she'd left a cold house, and in more ways than the literal. It would take some getting used to without their little girl around.
Putting aside her sad thoughts, Hera went about starting up the fire in their fire place, and carrying in some logs of firewood from outside. A few people of the city had taken it on themselves to help the Feldsky family, since both were in active service for much of the day. Once the fire was lit, and the room was beginnin to warm up, she found a large bowl filled with some stew of some sort. It came with a note.
Fly high, shoot straight, and rest easy. We all know that it's hard to see them go, but she'll return soon, and better for it. Till then, have some stew, and wait with excitement.
-Greta
Greta was their next door neighbor, an elderly woman, who'd always treated the Feldsky family as her own. She'd once had a son who had served as an illian mercenary, but it had been years since the woman heard from him. Perhaps that was why she loved the Feldskys, because they reminded her of her child to some degree.
Hera herself was in an active Falcoknight squadron, tasked with running patrols for the roads near Illia's main cities, as well as other duties. Her husband, Roderick, was a senior member in a team of road guards, which traveled between the outlying towns, Edessa, and Arphen for most of the day. While they didn't often work together directly, it still made her feel better knowing that she saw him several times a day. It wasn't as prestigious as traveling the lands, and earning the gold of the nations, but it was something that the growing populations of their cities greatly appreciated.
Leaving the bowl of stew to begin unthawing over the fire, the Falcoknight went into the small bedroom adjoining the rest of the house, and stripped out of her armor, cleaning herself up from a day of riding in the sky, and throwing on the robe she wore over her house clothing to stay warm. She was off duty, and now she would have to wait, missing her daughter, until Rod returned from his patrol. It wouldn't be long, but with Clair gone.
Oh, listen to myself. I sound like one of those blubbering mothers who doesn't know when it's time to let go. Hera remembered her own time going out into the world. It had seemed so exciting. Like the first time she'd ridden on the back of a pegasus, she'd spread her wings and soared into the future. Now that she looked back, she'd made a lot of mistakes. And then their was that one time, early in her training tha the saddle had fallen off of her pegasus- WHILE SHE WAS FLYING. These thoughts really weren't helping ease her worry over Clair....
....
...Roderick was late. She hated it when he was late. He wasn't behind schedule often, as he liked to keep everything precisely timed. It made her wonder if something bad had happened to him when he was.
The door creaked open and was closed again before the lethal frost of Illia could push it's way in. "I'm home," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Hera stood up, and started to make her way over to him, when she noticed that after he'd removed his snow covered coat, his left left sleeve was rolled up and wrapped tightly in bandages.
"Rod! What happened?"
"Oh, it's nothing. Just a lucky bruiser who got a pass at me while I was lining up a shot on their leader. South road today." He treated it off handedly, but a right handed man, like him, held his bow with his left hand.
"Those bandages make it look like it covers your whole forearm."
"Yeah." There was a grim, pained smile on his lips this time, as he replied.
"Will you be able to shoot?" Normally, Roderick never came into contact with his enemies. He shot them first, but, even if he couldn't shoot, the work still needed done. He'd be expected to continue, using the sword instead, which would put him at much greater risk.
"Don't worry. It's mostly surface stuff. Doctor said I'd be able to shoot fine again by the end of the week." The yeoman saw the worry etched in his wife's face. She believed that he was safer when using his bow, but an enemy archer could get a lucky shot in just as quickly, no matter the weapon Roderick chose to use. Coming closer,he rested his hands softly on her shoulders. "Hey, don't worry. I'll be extra careful. Plus, I've got you looking after me from the skies. Hmm?"
She looked down, not completely reassured by his promises. "I just wish all the bandits would die."
He pulled her close, hugging her to him and just standing there for a moment, taking in the peace that the guards' vigilance purchased. "Well, anyone who picks the life of crime clearly has a deathwish. We're just helping them along." A soft smile played under his trimmed beard, as he stroked his love's hair.
"Mmm...Hera, Is that Greta's stew I smell? It smells like... Is it starting to burn?"
"Oh! No!" Quicker than if she'd never come over, Hera pulled herself away and rushed to the fireplace, where she managed to extricate the soup bowl from the flames. It ended up being only partly burnt. Definitely salvageable... this time.
"Make's me wish Clair was still here. She definitely didn't inherit her mother's, terrible kitchen skills." Rod said as he pulled up a chair at their small, three person table.
Hera shot him a sharp, but short-lived glare. There was a hint of mirth twinkling in his tone of voice and in his piercing blue eyes. One that crept out just often enough to accentuate his complex character of calm strength, steely steadfastness, and occasional mischief. She gave him a good whack on the shoulder, smiling at the memories of their family he'd brought up.
Clair had been better at handling food then her mother. Perhaps it was because she'd inherited some of her father's natural tendencies to plan things out effectively.
"Maybe then, oh great Lord of the Kitchen, I'll leave you to unfreeze your own soup, next time."
Roderick lifted his hands in mock surrender. "I apologize, Lady Feldsky, for my impertinence." He adopted a theatrical pose, hand on his chest. "However, I believe that it is near time that I fixed my Master's Roast again, and showed the world, who knows best how to craft a masterpiece of meals."
Hera smiled at his wordplay. He was, indeed, an excellent cook, but he normally didn't have time to do anything, due to his duties. "What's the occasion?"
"Do I need an occasion to cook a special meal for friends and family?" He asked, feigning shock. Then he dropped his pretense. "Actually, withing the next few months, I'll be getting a transfer. Villagers from the region, and the populace here have decided the want to have a better trained militia, so instead of going out on the road, I'll be heading up to the training grounds, and giving them a serious run down on fighting. I don't expect many to master what I teach, but it will help.... Bandit raids seem to be intensifying in a few places, so they need to be prepared."
"Well, there aren't any better suited to the task than you." Hera said, mulling over the new information.
Roderick leaned back in his chair. "I hope Clair gets back soon from her trip. Most first trips only take a few months, right?"
Hera looked over at her husband, mind now back on where her daughter was going. The world. "Mine took a few months, yes, but it varies greatly. The world was becoming a dangerous place, what with tensions building in Bern, and Etruria's intrusion into Sacae.
"I want to teach her something of the blade when she get's back."
"Uhuh. No way. Clair's learning Falco knight swordcraft. Not your variations on sacaen styles." Hera was adamant on this.
"Why can't she learn both?"
"It's just not done Rod. If she learned more than one style, they could conflict, and ruin her grip on both styles."
Her husband's only response was something of a non-committal grunt.
And with that, they continued their evening, finishing dinner, cleaning up, and going to bed before beginning the next day.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jan 21, 2011 12:55:47 GMT -6
Roderick Feldsky stood up from behind the small outcropping of stone they were sheltering behind, and walked over to his Commander, irritation showing on his face.
"Tormod, the patrol we were supposed to relieve is an hour late. We should check it out. Something must have happened to them." Rod hated it when things were off schedule. It threw things off. An example: When shooting a running target, one needed to be absolutely on time. Shoot to early, and you'd miss. Too late, and that would cause you to miss as well. Another: When springing and ambush, all the bowmen needed to shoot exactly on schedule, otherwise the alerted enemies would have a chance to find cover before the rest of the bowmen fired. Yet another, which his beloved wife should have learned by now, involved cooking: Wait too long, and the food tastes burnt.
Normally, I'd say you're overreacting, Feldsky," Rod nodded. His Commander said that quite a bit. Just about every time the yeoman complained about someone being off schedule, actually. "But I think you're right, this time. I've never known this patrol to let anything slow them down.... We're gonna go take a look.
The Commander strode back to the rest of his men, and barked out orders to the group of eight, or so. On your feet, Men! Our pals are late, and we're going to go see what's keeping them. Lt. Dawson, go see what's ahead. Rod, you go with him too. We'll be following behind and staying out of your way.
The Lieutenant nodded his assent and then stretched, picked up his axe and shield, and jogged on ahead, with Rod falling in line next to him.
"Still missing that bow arm, Rod?
"You bet I am, Dawson. You melee fighters take so long to do all your killing. It's simple with an arrow."
"Well, just you remember how simple it is, the next time you get charges by a rogue sellsword, or some mountain brigand. You really should stay closer to me. I barely got there in time to save the arm, last time."
Rod rolled his eyes. He'd saved the Lt countless times, but then Dawson had stepped in to save the day for him once, and now he'd never live it down. "I didn't think scouts were supposed to be so noisy. It's refreshing to see you breaking the mold, Dawson."
"Point taken. Alright, let's break from the road. Head into those trees over there, and we won't be easy pickings for any marksman who happens to be around.
Some time later
"Take a look, Rod. In the clearing ahead." The Lieutenant's voice held a bit of excitement.
"A pegasus knight. Yes... What is she doing here? They weren't part of the patrol we were meant to relieve."
"We should go and ask her what she's doing. Maybe she'd like some company."
"Listen to you. All aflutter from the beauty of our nation's famed pegasus knights. You aren't going to try and flirt with her, are you? You're on duty."
Lt. Dawson gave a laugh as he started to stand up, and enter the clearing, weapons held at ease. "Hah, when else do I get the time?"
Grumbling, Roderick followed him out. "Time, time, time. You know, we're already far behind on our scheduled patrol...."
"Hey, Sugar. You need a- Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Take the pointy from the chest!"
As soon as he'd stepped out and started to approach, the woman had shifted in her seat, and leveled her lance at the man.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The woman's eyes were as cold as the frozen Illian snow that surrounded them. Roderick recognized her.
"Ellen, interesting to see you here. The taking a break from the skies?"
"Roderick. I didn't think your patrol was supposed to head this way today." Her eyes softened to a bit less hostile as she looked on the yeoman, but didn't warm any. She knew him through her 2nd in command, Hera Feldsky, and Rod's wife. Slowly, she lowered her lance from Lt. Dawson's chest, who backed away, happy to not be dead.
"We weren't, but the group we were supposed to relieve never showed. Have you seen them?"
Her face took on a serious caste, as she gestured down a small slope with her lance. "Take a look for yourself."
The sight awaiting Rod, as he looked was a disturbing one, to say the least. On the hill, were seven bodies. Some were partially buried in the snow, but that didn't hide the obviously gruesome nature of their death. The bodies looked to have been mutilated.
After a momentary pause, Dawson gave a whistle as he took the sight in. "It takes a truly sick and twisted mind to do something like this. Any idea on who could have done this?"
Rod looked over the corpses of his fellow scouts grimly, stooping to study the cold bodies. The head of the body was lying at an odd angle, like it had been broken, and there were several harsh slashes stretching across the face. "Whoever did this nearly ripped the face off of his victims." Rod's face changed suddenly, worry crossing it. "Are we secure here?"
"Relax, Rod. I've got my girls scouring the area. They aren't anywhere near her anymore. I just wish we could have been here when this happened. Maybe we could have stopped whoever did this.... We do have an idea about who did this. Recently, bandit called "Lacerator John", has been moving into the area. He's got a reputation for fighting with a sword in one hand, and some sort of custom made many-tailed flail, or whip in his other hand. Likes to go for the head with it." A grimace of disgust for the type of man she was decribing decorated her face as she spoke.
"Wonderful. Is Command planning a special greeting for our new neighbors soon?"
"I wouldn't know. I'd like to be the first to go after them though. I won't stand for this kind of thing on my turf." She looked to the skies, where some of her riders could be seen gathering. "I'll leave a couple of my knights with you. They'll be able to see any trouble long before you can."
"Much appreciated, Commander. We should get back to our own group, and let them know what's going on." Roderick wondered, hopefully, if Hera would be one of the knights following them. He'd feel better knowing that he could keep an eye on her, especially after this new news.
Ellen merely nodded to them, before her pegasus hurtled it's way into the sky, carrying her with it.
"Well, you're right, Rod. Let's get back to Commander Grisham.... Hey, you think you could get Hera to set me up with her Commander?"
Rod turned an incredulous look on his friend. Dawson only shrugged in response.
"You know, you've got to have the biggest mouth on a scout I have ever heard."
- - - - -
Hera drew near her Commander as the woman rose from the ground. "No survivors this time either?"
"No. They're much too quick. Too thorough. Listen! Take your Wingmate, and follow that patrol, down there, around. It's you Husband's. Give'em a hand, if they need it."
Hera glanced down, and could just make out the dark blue mop of hair that her belonged to Roderick. They're way over here?"Yes Commander. Thankyou."
Hera peeled away, and passed word back to her partner. They'd be busy watching from the sky for the next several hours, but at least she'd be able to make sure Rod was safe while she did it.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Mar 25, 2011 11:08:34 GMT -6
Ehh... At the start of this project, Edessa was not on the map, and it was understood that Edessa and Arphen were about a day away from each other, or so. That is not the case anymore. Now, they are on opposite sides of the map, so I find it unlikely that daily patrols between the cities happen. lol Sort it out as best you can.
The next few days were quiet, but nothing could remove the sense of anticipation that was building on the Feldsky family. Each of them caught little clues which pointed to the fact that there was going to be some sort of military action taken soon. Rod guessed that this "Lacerator" had made one too many hits and moved from a nuisance to an issue. Still, no orders came down from command. In fact, several of the squadrons seemed to be sent out even less than usual.
"Rod?" The door to their small house opened, and Rod looked up to see his wife entering. "Rod? Did you know Dawson could sing?"
The scruffy, blue-haired yeoman barked a laugh, smiling at the memories that brought up. "Has a voice that could wake the dead. Wake them so they could beat him to death and then get back to their resting." The man glanced back to Hera. From the way she was looking at him, she was being. "Erhem... At least when he's drunk"
Hera gave him an amused look. "Well then, he's been practicing. He's outside my Commander's house right now, trying to serenade her. Know anything 'bout that?" The strength of Hera's smile was only equaled by the utter shock on her husbands slack-jawed face.
"So far, he's not had much success with her. She's not actually home right now, but you know what I think?"
Rod stared at the floor, a goofy grin forming on his face. "I didn't think he'd actually get up the courage to go after her. And she's not there? Hahaha.... Poor wreck, I should go and rescue him before he freezes to death.
"Oh, fine.... If you feel that way, then I'll come along too. And I think you should ask him for singing lessons too. It's been a long time since you treated me to anything like that."
"I cook!" Roderick said defensively as he stood and fastened his coat on, but then he smiled, "but if you'd like something special, then perhaps I can "cook" up something for later, hmm?"
Hera slipped her arm through his as they left the house. "Focus on the mission, Roderick. You've got a friend to rescue." She teased, as they pushed out into the cold.
- - - - -
The pair stood there, watching Rod's friend, Tormod Dawson, as he stood in front of the house of Hera's Commander, Ellen Tamrian. They still hadn't approached the man to let him know that Ellen wasn't home, instead preferring to watch and let him continue alternating between singing, reciting poetry, knocking on the door, and, mostly, shivering.
"Roderick, how many times do you think he'll repeat those verses. I'm tired of waiting for him, and I'm getting cold."
"I don't know, Dear. I've never known him to be this persistant. Maybe we should go and stop him before-"
"Did you hear something?"
Roderick paused, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
"Psst... Hey."
Rod and Hera looked over at the same time, and saw Commander Tamrian hunched over, hidden behind a stack of firewood behind a house. She was waving them over furiously.
The Feldskys walked over, still arm in arm, before Roderick spoke up. "Ellen? What are you doing over here?" Of course, Rod had already divined what was going on, but was playing dumb for the amusement of it.
"Would you two hurry up and get over here, I need your help!" She was practically hissing at spitting at Rod, but her eyes looked desperate. It was very unusual to see the steely, composed blunette looking this way.
Hera broke away and made headed straight for the back of the building, where they'd be hidden from view, but Rod smiled to himself, and casually made his way closer.
"What's the problem, Commander?" Hera asked. Surely, she can see what's going on here. Rod thought to himself. Either she's deadpanning, or she is simply oblivious.
"That man out there! The one with you when we ran into each other on patrol. Rod, this is all your fault." The blue-eyed yeoman managed to contain his amusement at seeing Ellen acting this way, but just barely. "That Dawson. He won't stop dogging me. He asked me to lunch, he sent me flowers, and now this. I've been waiting for him to leave for thirty minutes! Fix this!"
Hera seemed a bit puzzled by her commander's attitude. "I don't see what's wrong. He seems to be genuinely trying to please you."
"It's unwanted." Ellen answered back, her eyes set in a peculiar way which Rod's observation skills always picked up on. She'd decided to stick to her argument on principle, and that was the end of that. At least as far as she was concerned.
"Fine... Fine. I'll get him to ease off some, but you should consider giving him a chance.... For his own well being if nothing else. Wait here." Rod couldn't resist throwing that last bit in. His friend really would benefit from a firm hand to settle him down a bit, and someone like Ellen, while holding tight to her independence, still craved a team: a partnership. That was part of the reason she ran such a talented pegasus squad: because she made it her business to help them be the best. She just needed to realize that having someone there to help her could make her the best too. Was he playing matchmaker now? Well, yes actually, he was.
- - - - -
Hera looked over at her commander, studying her for a moment. Rod made things like this look easy. Every shift in stance, every facial tic, every nuance of the voice. They were all studied, analyzed, and filed away until he had enough information to calculate their reactions with ease.
He seemed like a god at times, the way he could predict and manipulate things. Actually, this had disturbed her when she'd first gotten to know him, but he'd later confessed that what originally found her so interesting were the little things she did: things that he couldn't predict or understand no matter how he tried. She'd been unsure how to take that as well, but over time, he'd made his love and commitment clear.
"Ellen, why is this such an issue?" Hera hadn't seen her commander like this often. The only other time she could remember was once when one of her knights had been caught taking bribes under the table for selling the squads equipment on the side. That sort of profiteering had been rough on the entire group, and Commander Tamrian had been worried about someone in the hireups deciding to make an example of the entire squad for what had happened.
"Hera, you're a close friend, and I trust you and your family more than anyone else, but I really don't feel like talking about this."
"Well, what if I do?! You're dragging my husband into this little encounter of yours. What if some harm to his friendship comes of this? Why don't you just go and talk to him?"
Ellen mumbled something under her breath which probably was better left unheard and crossed her arms. "Now, if I was to go and talk to him, that would be giving him exactly what he wants. No. It needs to be someone else. Someone he respects enough to listen to. Rod fits my needs perfectly, and we both know that he's skilled enough to smooth this over without any trouble on his part."
Hera had to concede that. Despite her voiced concerns, Rod would handle things just fine. She'd have to get Rod's story on all of this later, and see if he'd picked out any of the details.
"It's like a game to him."
- - - - -
This shouldn't be too hard. It's like child's play.
.....
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