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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jul 26, 2011 19:22:28 GMT -6
Clair was infinitely glad that the young dragoness hadn't stomped any of her riders into oblivion. She was equally glad that the flyers had figured out that the dragons were with the "good guys". It had made things so much easier to deal with. Or, rather, it removed the issue of having to deal with it.
"Richter's the Commander of this army, Fran. Though, I guess that rank applies to me as well now....." Clair smiled wearily towards the the pink haired girl. I hired the squires myself, afterall, so that makes me their commander.... Ohhh! Where's Richter gotten to. He should have made himself known by now.
With her commander out of sight, it was a struggle just to keep moving for Clair. Richter was always there. A visible sign of strength to spur her and the others on. That's what she was supposed to work at becoming, but sometimes that seemed so far away... like right now.
Covering her worry with a quick out breathing of air, the Blond-haired sky knight patted the pink haired girl on the shoulder for a moment before speaking up.
"Try not to let that one hurt himself anymore, hey? I don't need to hear his tantrums over healing all the time" Her tone was partly playful, partly chiding towards David, as she moved off. A broken ribcage was a broken ribcage... until a healer had a look at it.
She turned away at Garith's voice. While Fran had called her a rank that still felt too big, Garith had used no rank at all. She wasn't sure how that came across to her. People she knew got special treatment, and she didn't bother correcting them when they were somewhat separated from the main group. Garith, however, she had spoken with the blue-haired swordsman for all of about sixty seconds, back in Edessa, when he'd been hired on. Or joined? She couldn't even remember the details of his agreement.
"Just keep busy, Garith. There's always more to do after a battle...."He could stay here, or move ahead with Clair or some other group. She really didn't have anything specific for him.
"Let's head to the southern battle lines!" She raised her voice, and got the attention of the cluster of soldiers in the area. If this place was done, then she wanted to get down to where most of the fighting had taken place....
It was also where Richter would have been too, likely enough.
On reaching the south, she saw just how much carnage had been wrought. The dragons, had pracitcally turned the place into a crater, and the front lines had been little friendlier. The Falcoknight commander quickly crouched down next to one of Richter's men, and tore off a strip of cloth from the man's shirt to wrap arm in. It looked like it had been crushed pretty good, but he'd recover. The next soldier she moved onto was in much worse shape. Looking to a healer nearby, she saw him give a sad shake of his head. This one wouldn't make it.
"Wait!...uhh..." The man's breathing came in weazing gasps as he desperately grasped at her hand. "D...don't want to be alone...."
"A... alright." Clair tried to keep a calm countenance about her. She'd seen death before. She knew it's smell and sound by heart, but she'd never rested on the deathbed of one of her soldiers before. Perhaps if she had, she would have learned the grizzly lesson of just how bad war was sooner.
She felt her breath catch with every struggled breath of the man she was with. Tears filled her eyes at her inability to do anything to prevent this, or even ease his passing. But no, she could give him a measure of comfort, perhaps.
"People will remember this day, you know." She started hesitantly, but seeing his glazed eyes flick up towards her, she continued.
"The battles fought until now. The battles to come. They aren't forgotten. Commander Abend has sworn to stop the Prophet and his sweep of tyranny across the lands. These battles, and those who fought in them will go down as the ones who kept the world from being trapped under that hand of suffering.... You're one of those.Thankyou." A few tears dripped onto the open wound in the soldier's chest, but she saw him relax some at her words.
"...I...ust wsh... d see it." Within a few moments of his final words, his breathing suddenly became shallow and quick, before giving out altogether. She saw the life leave him then, and let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She closed her eyes for a moment, wiping them on a relatively clean section of her arm, and opened them again.
...It was worth it. This war, this fighting. It was all worth it. It had to be, or else she'd just give up and die right there. But she wasn't allowed to do that. She had to stand at the front of this army and lead it into the jaws of destruction and back.
As her eyes lifted, she spotted something red across the way. It was a shield. A familiar one.... One she'd seen in the Edessan Throne Room, as it was being passed to a new owner: Richter Abend, Hero of Illia. Grabbing up her lance, the girl jogged across the way, eyes scanning wildly for a clue about Richter.
She arrived. It was his shield alright. Where was the man though!?
"Richter! Commander Richter, where are you!?" Her shoulder slumped a bit at not getting a response, or seeing his form on the ground, but now wasn't the time to stop.
"Fan out, and look for the Commander!" Her voice carried to a few of the people in the region who started moving with a purpose on hearing her. Clair joined them in looking. ...Looking for any sign of the pink-haired swordsman.
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David Krisby
Mercenary
DEAD
"Where is MY path to redemption?"
Posts: 81
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Post by David Krisby on Jul 27, 2011 11:52:52 GMT -6
"Wait, you guys are fighting the Prophet?" He overheard Clair telling the dying knight. "Why didn't you just say so before? I would have joined you guys back when you first found me in the snow. It may not seem so at first glance, but there are plenty of people fed up with the Prophet."
Nobody was really listening to him though, cause everyone was looking for the Commander. "Oh yeah, I haven't seen him since before the battle started... Hey Fran, I'll take you up on what you said before now. Let's fly around and see if we can find the Commander, two sets of eyes are better than one." He looked at the young dragon girl, waiting to hear if she was okay with that plan.
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Post by Valcrist on Jul 27, 2011 17:19:58 GMT -6
Well now, isn't he grumpy? Then again being stuck in this freezing wasteland and being accosted by a teenager several armed soldiers probably would put a damper on anyone's day. Val didn't say anything, as there was wasn't anything really to say that wasn't just talking for the sake of talking. Something he did often, but not something that belonged on the battlefield. Or post-battlefield. Or whatever this current phase of battle field this was. Ugh, how did he wind up in an army again? This time he was marching around like a soldier and junk too, stupid Valcrist. Moving before you think, which was saying something considering how much the boy loves to over think everything ever. He'd probably be reapri reperim yelled at for getting involved in the first place.
His mind continued to poke at random thoughts, picking them dry like a chicken tossed at some bandits, he'd probably be chewing on the metaphoric bones of his thoughts before too long. Still his mind remained in two places at once. He subconsciously watched for even the slightest off movement, sign of aggression, signal of distress. He didn't really need to put much thought to it, which was good because it was pretty boring. A few people were running around doing stuff, but they didn't pay Valcrist any mind. Probably because he was with a group of illian soldiers, they must of assumed he was doing what they where already doing. Which appeared to be looking at dead people. Hunh. Military types are weird sometimes.
It wasn't too long before Val picked the tactician out, it wasn't particularly difficult seeing as he sticks out like a thumb after it had been whacked with his smithing hammer. Just significantly less swollen, still got the dark bruising color though. The other soldiers had respected the mercenary group's request of not getting too close. Still they were watching them like hawks, like a giant hawkring or something. "Excuse me sir." Was he... was he supposed to salute or something? Val didn't want to mess anything up, which he no doubt will do anyway, but atleast he wanted to make a conscious effort to avoid it. It was really biting him in the rear end that he didn't know the man's name right about now, then again he wasn't sure if he was really supposed to know. As far as he's gathered, by the sea of confusion surrounding the events leading up to this, this man was the tactician. Not the much shorter man with violet hair who's name was Maverick. Or something similar to that. He'd only met the man earlier back when Richter was asking him about the magic blade, but he didn't remember if they were actually introduced. Still seemed like a strange last minute change of staff.
Now how should he go about this? Hrm.... "Sir, I've found some men on the outskirts of the field who claim to be mercenaries hired to assist us." He thought about that last word for a moment. Saying 'our commander' was awkward, but he clearly was not close enough to Richter to just casually say his name. "I thought they might benefit from speaking with you first, so I escorted them." That sounded suitably polite and proper, right?
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Farlus
Mage
[M:0]
You had better hope I can make use of you.
Posts: 67
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Post by Farlus on Jul 28, 2011 6:24:39 GMT -6
Farlus looked up with tired eyes at the young man who addressed him. It was the swordsman that assisted him with the magi earlier. He brought a group of men who he didn't recognize with him. Of course, he wasn't very well acquainted with a good majority of their force anyway. Though he did say they were a group of mercenaries that had just arrived. Farlus shook his head. His thoughts were addled. He always got like this after healing, even back in his days with the Rangers. The mage stood from his boulder and looked at the boy.
"Very well. Thank you, lad." the tactician then looked at the mercenaries.
"I am Farlus Norwright, the staff officer and tactician of this force. I am afraid our commander is missing at the moment, but I can provide accommodations until he returns. That is, assuming our second in command approves. Which one of you is the leader?"
Farlus looked at the mercenaries. They definitely looked formidable, but it was always best to err on the side of caution. However, if Clair approved of these men, it was good enough for him.
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Leontius
Mercenary
[M:0]
These men, his men
Posts: 32
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Post by Leontius on Jul 29, 2011 3:43:23 GMT -6
The stern Ilian had finally relaxed his guard when the Ilian army came into site. That was what he'd really been waiting for, the Ilian force as a whole. There was no way an army of mountain bandits would play dress up just to get the drop on him, and not that he disliked flattery, but that was a possibility that he didn't even acknowledge.
It appeared that the main force had indeed wiped out the bandit threat. At the moment the Illian army was either performing search and rescues or cutting down the wounded foes. A fair tactic, but he prayed that the cleanup would be swift. The sooner they arrived in Bern the better.
Leon followed the young Nabatan, rather casually at this point, as he observed the busy soldiers. His ears picked up when the boy began speaking again. The light-blue haired mercenary crossed his arms and cocked his head, so that he might see the tactician. What he saw amazed him. By Elimine, he'd never seen a man with skin so dark. As if it had been burnt to a crisp. Was this man Nabatan as well? That was the only place Leon could think he came from. His skin was too dark to be a Sacaen or Etrurian, the only other nationalities he could have been. How odd, A pair of Nabatans, one a boy, leading a squad of men, the other the army's tactician.
The young Nabatan stood still as the white-haired mage rose to his feet, trying to get a view of the stubborn hounds. Now that Leon had a better view of him as well, the dark skinned tactician looked very tired. The battle must have been brutal for him. Judging by the level of fatigue he exhibited and the state of his gray attire, Leon guessed that this man had been uncomfortably close to the fighting. And by that, he meant he'd actually been fighting, and not just directing the troops. Admirable. A good leader should always fight amongst his men. After all, what kind of example would he be if he hid behind them? A poor one, a cowardly one. A man needed to be at the front of his army if he truly wished to bring his forces victory.
The Ilian mercenary noticeably grimaced when he learned that Commander Abend was not accounted for. His business lay with the commander, not the tactician or Abend's second in command, whoever that was. Leon did not want to deal with anyone except the commander. However, if worse came to worse, he would not complain. He'd simply be rather distraught The Ilian pulled himself out of his thoughts, allowing himself to speak with the dark skinned man. He stepped forward, his arms at his side, a strict look on his face. "Farlus, tactician, my name is Leontius, Leontius Aurelei, commander of the mercenaries you see before you." He held out his sword hand, offering to shake. "I'm sure this is something of a surprise to you. It certainly is to me, I'd been hoping to meet up with this force in Bern. However, it would appear that whatever divine figure that watches over us would have otherwise. And do not worry about accommodations for the moment. I've some business that needs to be squared away with the commander." He paused, blinking and fearing the worst. "Well, I suppose his second in command in this case."
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Farlus
Mage
[M:0]
You had better hope I can make use of you.
Posts: 67
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Post by Farlus on Jul 30, 2011 10:28:47 GMT -6
Farlus looked the man up and down. He definitely looked the grizzled leader type to him. Leontius was a bit of an odd name, though. Of course, who was he to judge? For all he knew, his original parents could have named him something far more bizarre.
"Welcome, then, Sir Aurelei. If you will follow me, I will take you to our second in command."
Farlus turned on his heel, the tails of his black tunic flapping as a substitute for the cloak he removed earlier. Then, trying to keep his composure despite his exhaustion, he walked off to find Clair, checking back to see if Leontius' company was following him.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jul 30, 2011 12:42:53 GMT -6
Clair was partially reassured by David's sudden influx of energy at the mention of fighting the Prophet. It was good to know that there were more than just their little troop of deserters who recognized the importance of the man on the throne of Etruria. She hoped he would understand the reasons for their detour into Bern, but even if he didn't, it would make little difference in the end.
The searching contiued for a bit with no further traces of the pink-haired commander turning up, except for his weapons. Finding no body really didn't provide much information, except that he wasn't here. She couldn't be sure he was alive, but it didn't mean he was dead either. He might even be somewhere on the other side of the battle, but she doubted that. His presence would have been felt on the field in his actions if he was here. The gears in the falcoknight's head kept turning. If he wasn't here... he wasn't here. Someone had moved him... or his body.
That was it then. Unless he turned up, they'd have to function without him until a decision was made. Initially, she felt a bit lost, the Commander's absence like a yawning pit threatening to swallow her will, but this was just another sort of battle. No time to freeze up when there were actions to make. Clair dismissed the searchers in the area to go off to rest, or assist elsewhere. She ought to inform Farlus of this. And they needed to get the army resituated again. Moving it out of the battlezone would be important.
The Deputy Commander fitted Richter's shield over her arm, its size and weight clearly not made for someone of her stature, and headed off towards the healing tents. Everything seemed to be working through there, and it was likely that that's where Farlus was. She didn't need to go far however, before she saw the dark-skinned man's tired form making his way towards her. He wasn't alone either. There was a man with ice blue hair, and a battle hardened feel about him following the tactician. She'd not seen the man before.
"Farlus...." She paused to catch her breath in the cold air. "No sign of the Commander, or his body. Just his weapons...." She glanced up at the new man, looking him over a bit.
"Who's this?" The Falcoknight's voice carried both weariness, and resolve. The grime of the battle was still present on her, and she'd still need a healer to check the bumps and bruises that remained, but that would wait until the camp was settled in. For now, it seemed there were other things which needed doing.
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Leontius
Mercenary
[M:0]
These men, his men
Posts: 32
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Post by Leontius on Jul 31, 2011 16:23:53 GMT -6
Before following the white-haired man, Leontius pulled one of his men to the side. It was Jim, the mage infatuated with Clarissa, the company pegasus rider. The man had worked a long time at Leon's side, longer then any of the other mercenaries actually. Leon ordered him to give Gate's group the all clear, and once he was out of sight, Leon caught up with Farlus.
Leon walked behind the dark-skinned man at a brisk pace, observing the soldiers as they rushed across the blood-stained snow. It was such a profound sight blood on snow. Snow, to those who did not properly fear it, was something beautiful, elegant, light, airy, if not troublesome. But that was not so. It was quite the contrary actually. Snow was not beautiful or captivating, but bone chilling. It was death in disguise, a reaper wearing a stunning, white robe. It was akin to a pegasus. It was so beautiful to watch, to behold. It was a being that you would allow to approach you, so that you might properly behold its magnificence. But the closer you allowed it to approach you, the more you invited death. In an instant, it could take your life, and you would not have been the wiser.
An odd sight presented itself before the mercenary and the tactician. A woman, a gorgeous blonde woman made her way to the white-haired mage and gave him a report on the whereabouts of the commander. She was clearly wearied from the battle. Bits of dry blood lay in blotches across her armor. Numerous small cuts and bruises suggested that she'd seen a good deal of fighting. Her armor was rather light, yet protective, save for a very oddly sized red shield. The shield was massive, something clearly made for someone larger then herself. This woman had a very professional air about her, so Leon doubted that the cumbersome bit of protection belonged to her. Perhaps it was Richter's, he was fabled to be a monster of a man, and the shield she carried was certainly that of a monster's.
Leon placed a firm hand on Farlus' shoulder as if to affirm that he could speak for himself. The stern mercenary stepped in front of the wearied spell slinger. He blinked once, letting his hand slide from the tactician's shoulder. "My name is Leontius, my company and I have been dispatched to assist Richter Abend in his campaign in Bern. Well, we were, but it would appear that he's missing in action. So I suppose that would mean that we're under the command of his first officer until he is found." The mercenary cleared his throat, allowing a hint of doubt to sneak into his voice. "Assuming he is found."
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 31, 2011 23:36:51 GMT -6
Richter had propped himself up against the splintery wooden wall of his prison, bringing himself to a sitting position. After all, he wasn't just going to lay on the floor like a big lump of wounded rebel commander until his captors got him to his destination. No, the pink haired Ilian refused to be that pathetic.
Looking down at himself, Richter noticed a brown little pouch attached to his belt. Perfect. Fortunately for him, it looked like the bandits had merely looted his weapons, leaving his travel sack untouched. It wasn't particularly surprising, though. After all, they probably had to have whisked him off of the battlefield pretty quickly. Not enough time to pilfer everything. Reaching into the pouch, the commander pulled out another, smaller, browner sack. It was his almost depleted vulnerary. Boy, did these things come in handy.
With a bit of effort, Richter unbuckled his breastplate and placed it down in front of him so he could more easily access his side. Then, gripping his shirt, he rolled the slightly crusted fabric up in order to get a better look, and could only wince at the look he got.
Good Lord. It was rib. His rib. It was poking right out of his side, all nice and white, with just enough red to remind him that it wasn't supposed to be sticking out like that. Shaking his head, the Ilian commander could only imagine how much worse everything looked under his skin. Good thing the pain had numbed itself a great deal, or even the rugged warrior that he was may have just fainted right then and there.
Richter reached back into his travel pouch and pulled out one more item: a needle, with some thread looped into it. If there were three things a warrior always wanted to have with him, they were a vulnerary, a needle and thread, and jerky. The jerky was still sitting in the pouch. As for the needle and thread? Well, that was about to be addressed. The pink haired Ilian moved his hand down towards his protruding rib, and placing two fingers on the bone, took a deep breath. This might sting a little.
Gritting his teeth and wincing, Richter exhaled and, with all of the force he could muster, shoved the broken rib back into the hole from whence it came, causing blood to spurt out as it went in. The action, of course, made him yelp in pain, but he couldn't be too loud. By the divine, that almost hurt more than getting the injury in the first place, but he wouldn't want to be interrupted in the middle of his shoddily done, backup surgery. Richter then inhaled again, and exhaling, shoved two fingers into his side. This time, it took all the willpower he had not to start weeping like a child, but there was really no time for that. Working as quickly as his pain-addled brain would allow, Richter attempted to set the rib as best he could, trying to match the broken ends.
After a good minute or so of rooting around in his own side, the Ilian, as satisified as he'd ever be, removed his fingers and in one quick motion shoved the open end of the vulnerary in, letting the healing poultice repair what damage it could. The soothing effects were instantaneous and Richter could almost feel his body put itself back together as the sub-magical goo rushed into the wound, even healing some of the peripherally cracked ribs. It was no healing magic, but it was better than a grossly broken rib. Hopeful he'd done a good enough job that he wouldn't have to re-break it in the future to get it perfectly set. That would just be horrible.
Not skipping a beat, Richter grabbed the needle and thread and with nothing more than a quick wince, began stitching up the open, bloody gap in his side. Finishing in a few fast but shaky strokes, the pink haired warrior craned his head down and bit the string. As he did, he couldn't help but think of his brother, Ardus. Had he gotten shanghaied like this too? Even after all these years, Richter couldn't imagine what anyone would have wanted with that muscle-head of a man. Maybe Bern had captured him and had a private execution for some fat, fish-faced noble on a revenge kick. Probably cut off his head; spilled his blood over some nice Bernese made rug. Richter chuckled darkly. What a nice thing to think about your dead brother.
Ardus had been an honorable man and a powerful warrior, but even he hadn't been able to walk off of the battlefield all those years ago. It had ruined their family. Dad had always been so proud of him; always seeing a bit of himself in his second oldest son. When he had gotten the news, though, it had wrecked him. Richter couldn't remember seeing his father smile after that. Matter of fact, nobody really smiled after that. Everyone had loved Ardus.
Richter shook his head and straightened up. Ardus had gotten of easy. He didn't have to live everyday with the memory of his home butchered in front of his eyes. Besides, their family was dead and no amount of reminiscing would change that. Richter would not die here. No, he'd make it out of this mess, and he get back to Clair and his men, and they'd go to Bern. That was his mission and he didn't plan on screwing it up. Too many lives had already been sacrificed. Too many.
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Post by Garith Valkyrie on Jul 31, 2011 23:46:27 GMT -6
Garith began looking for Richter, he didn't want to lose his boss on the first day. Even after it seemed Clair had quit he kept looking. He was getting tired though and his wounds were getting to him. Garith dropped a few times down on his knees as he was looking for Richter.
"Damnit where are you Richter," Garith said to himself as he punched into the snow. He then thought of what the bandit told him. If the Hellbreakers were after him would that mean everyone he was around was in danger? Garith didn't want to get Richter's army involved in his trouble he would deal with the Hellbreakers on his own even if it killed him. No matter what they would not hurt anyone else their beef was with him not them.
The blue haired mercenary returned back to where it seemed the army and made somewhat of a base. He watched as men were being taken to get treated for their wounds. Garith slowly walked to a distant tree away from everyone else where he lied on his back in the snow.
The sky was bright blue with clouds floating through the air. Snow floating onto his face it was great rather quite relaxing despite the fact his was bleeding and in a lot of pain. He could lay there though forever. His eyes then closed and he drifted off to other thoughts.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Aug 1, 2011 18:33:54 GMT -6
The Falcoknight woman's face seemed to pick up a little bit. This was the first she'd heard of reinforcements, but it was some good news when they needed it. So he'd brought a company with him. She wondered what exactly that meant, and who had hired them. Had Richter found time to hire some more mercs? At least he seemed to give off a competent and potent feel. He didn't tower over her nearly as much as Richter did, but that she knew that it didn't take a big package to be deadly.
"That put's you under my command then." Clair had trained to handle this. That's what her job was ultimately. It wasn't truly about assisting in keeping order, or organization. She wasn't there to serve as his advisor, or messenger. She did all these things, but the task that she'd been growing into was to keep the army functioning if it lost its leader.... The full realization of this hit her as she was addressing Leontius. She had to be prepared to carry on after taking a devastating blow. That was a part of her job. She didn't even bat an eyelash at all this. Now wasn't the time for pain, fear, or shock. It was time to keep doing.
The Falcoknight met the man's gaze and stepped forward, shifting her lance and the shield to her left hand, and extending her hand, a worn and calloused Commander's grip, to the man.
"I'm Clair Feldsky, The Deputy Commander of this army. There's probably some things to discuss." Like how she knew that he wasn't an Etrurian plant left by the group that had just attacked them. She didn't believe he was, but she'd still want to hear his full story for herself.
"Just a moment." Her eyes spotted one of the officers in the army making his path somewhere, until she flagged him down.
"Ma'am. Need something?"
"Whatever you were doing, Lieutenant, you've got more to do now. I want a new position to camp the army. It needs to be close, but away from the bodies here. Also, start getting what can be moved ready to move."
The Lieutenant snapped a salute before continuing on his way with a "Yes Ma'am." He seemed eager to get away from the carnage too. With the process started, she could turn her attention to other matters.
The blond-haired girl turned back to the grizzled man and the dark skinned mage. It was odd. With the business at hand, she'd completely forgotten about the injuries which still affected her.
"Commander Leontius, Farlus, I think we have things to discuss. Let's find a place a bit more out of the way."
(OoC: Begin 3 way support between Clair, Farlus, and Leon. Also, Timeskip to the next morning.)
The army had eventually managed to shift about a mile past the battlefield further south. The remainder of Clair's new unit of Air cavalry had joined up with them at last. And Commander Leon's own force had moved in as well. Much of the army was still recovering, whether it be from grevious injuries, or grevious fatigue. Even so, cooking fires were roaring throughout the camp, preparing the food that kept these fighters from starving.
Clair had pulled herself out of hercot this morning with a horrible aching in her side, and bones so stiff that she'd wondered if she'd ever be able to ride again. She had loosened up though. It had pleased her when she recalled that enormous axefighter she'd killed, and how he was feeling nothing now.... Not enough to forget Richter's absence though, or Corona's near death. The healer had done what he could for the giant pegasus, but even now, it wasn't a sure thing he'd ever fly at full capacity again. As it was, the healing they had available wouldn't help him anymore, and it was still going to take three to six months to know whether he would be fully recovered. It only fueled Clair's hate for Endellion, and made her want to get stronger. More talented. He'd gotten injured so badly because she relied on his strength instead of leading the battle herself.
After splashing a bit of icy water on her face, and putting her armor on for the day, she'd headed out the arch of the commander's tent and headed straight to where the pegasi were being kept. She wanted to check up on Corona. The early morning breezes here chilled her almost as much as the memories of the day before.... There would need to be a decision made about Richter today as well. So much to do. She could eat later.
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Post by Garith Valkyrie on Aug 2, 2011 22:42:18 GMT -6
Garith had a terrible night filled with nightmares. From being chase by a dragon from being attack by giant fluffy zombie rabbits. Then he was stalked by a hooded figure who turned out to be his mother. It was rough night on top of nightmares he just didn't sleep well his wounds were aching and stinging. He ignored it to the best of his abilities but it just kept him up. As exited the tent he was resting wearing nothing but his black pants and boots he let out a big yawn, rubbed his eyes and then looked around. It seemed that everyone was moving about but they all seemed still worn out from the fight which was not unexpected. Garith then remembered the bandage on his face, the ones on his arm and the bandages from right below his chest all the way down to his waist.
He wasn't cold, he was used to the low temperatures of Ilia so it would have to be much colder to get him worried. He walked over to a make shift table that some of the soldiers have made and sat down. A soldier sat next to Garith and started staring at him weird.
"Is there something that you want?" Garith asked the soldier a bit paranoid his grip on his sword Uprising tightened.
"oh nothing Garith I just want to talk,"The soldier said. Garith knew who this was it was his father disguised as one of Richter's men. "I swiped the armor from one of the dead soldiers on the battlefield," His father had taken the armor from someone Garith had seen before the fight, he could tell because the soldier had a scratch on his helmet like the one his father is wearing.
"You know if you weren't disguised right now and we weren't surrounded by other people I'd so kill your ass right now," Garith whispered to his father who just laughed at his son's hostility.
"Garith you couldn't beat me on your best day and on my worst,"Cryger whispered back.
"Bite me," Garith responded. Cryger laughed yet again it was funny to him seeing his son try and act tough.
"That's a lot coming from a kid you got beat by a five year old girl when he was ten," He said smirking.
"I let her hit me," Garith said trying to defend himself.
"Yeah you let her hit you about fifty times before your mother had to jump in and save your sorry ass," Cryger said. This agitated Garith he was going to sit hear and be ridiculed by his father.
He got up from his chair and started to walk off. Garith started oof to his tent but was blocked of by Cryger. So he turned around started off to a different area but was cut off again by his father.
"What the hell do you want?!" Garith questioned his voice sounding angry.
"I just want to talk to about a few certain things then I'll be out of your hair," Cryger said.
"Fine shoot and be quick about it before I change my mind and cut off your head," Garith said. He highly doubted what his father said was going to be really important.
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Farlus
Mage
[M:0]
You had better hope I can make use of you.
Posts: 67
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Post by Farlus on Aug 3, 2011 14:04:37 GMT -6
Farlus shivered on his bedroll. The thin blanket wasn't nearly enough to keep him warm and he was exactly able to keep himself magically warm in his sleep. The hard frozen ground under his modest tent wasn't helping either.
He had a dream that night about Samuel. The battle the day before got him think about how he would have handled things. The mage came to the conclusion in the dream that Samuel would have not made the mistakes he did and his magic would have been far more effective. Farlus wasn't usually one for belittling his own accomplishments, but compared to the memory of his old teacher, he was a complete wreck out there.
The sound of stirring soldiers and horse hooves echoes around his tent. Just enough to bring Farlus out of his dream and into reality. He slowly sat up in his bedroll, back stiff from sleeping in the cold practically on solid ground. The mage shivered until he was abel to cup his hands in front of his mouth and breathe into them, igniting the air for a short few seconds. When he was finally able to move properly, he heated himself as he tended to do every day. It was a simple spell, just raise one's body temperature. It was taxing, however. It usually meant he wasn't able to perform any powerful spells with it being used.
Farlus directed his thoughts to his back as he stood in the tent. Raising the heat on that portion of his body more than he rest, he allowed the muscles to relax and he stretched them out to get rid of the pain and stiffness. Of course, his entire body was sore, but that was something that mere heat would not be able to remedy. He went through a lot more physical movement than he was used to the day before. His muscles hadn't quite felt the impact until after they were riding off to find a camping location thanks to the adrenaline rush the battle afforded him, but it was definitely painful that morning.
The mage slipped on his tunic and trousers and tried to brush his mane of hair to be presentable before exiting the tent. hitched in the makeshift stables near his sleeping tent was the horse Richter had given him. It took a while to locate him again after Farlus left the steed to wander during the battle. It's coat was a fine chocolate brown, almost black. Farlus almost felt it a joke on Richter's part, seeing as he did pick out the steed for the tactician. He grabbed a brush from a table and approached his mount.
"Hello, there. I hope you had a good sleep." he spoke to his horse, "I suppose I should give you a name, but I think I'll leave that to when I'm able to actually ride you confidently...' the mage mumbled as he brushed the stallion's coat.
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Leontius
Mercenary
[M:0]
These men, his men
Posts: 32
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Post by Leontius on Aug 4, 2011 14:22:04 GMT -6
Leontius awoke to the arched fibers of a beige colored tent. His body, which lay flat as a plank, was sore from awakening pains caused by the hard earth beneath him. He leaned up, grunting, as bits of pain shouted in numerous areas of his back. The veteran winced as his body complained about the sleeping conditions. What a nuissance, his body could bear the biting cold of Ilia and the pain of a dozen sword wounds, and yet it couldn't ignore a few pokes from the earth?
Disgruntled, the veteran searched about his temporary living quarters, trying to spy his chain mail. Paranoid man that he was, Leon almost wished that the armor of tiny, linked metals was less uncomfortable. This wasn't necessarily out of a desire for convenience, but more so out a desire to be more appropraitely protected while he slept. After so many years of mercenary work, he'd learnt to stay on his toes at all times. Yes, even in his sleep.
He found it easily enough, lying on the cold, thin floor of the tent, where he'd left it. The tired mercenary raised his right knee, and rested his left on the kneecap. Across his body lay his blue cloak. He'd deny the blanket he'd been issued earlier, feeling that this blue bit of garb was more then sufficient in providing him warmth during the night. Ironic, Leon was a man who took little notice of the cold and yet he probably had the warmest blanket out of the soldiers there. He pondered that for a moment, finding a bit of humor in it, and eventually shrugged in indifference.
The chain-mail shirt slid its way onto the stern commander with little resistance. After armoring himself, Leon took a hold of his sheated sword, which was still in its scabbard. He held it in his left hand for a moment, pondering how the weapon might serve him in the battles to come. The stone-faced commander did not look forward to the campaign in Bern even slightly. He'd already steeled himself for whatever horrors the rebellious country might throw at him and yet he only prayed that his sword would serve him well. It was a small weapon, made of a more fragile metal then he would have preferred, something that invoked a looming fear in him. He dreaded the thought of being in the middle of a battle with a zealous and bloodthirsty revolutionary and finding out that his blade too weak to take the blows of his foe. And then if he was stranded in the field with a shattered sword and a furious foe, would he die? He could barely handle the thought. He couldn't die, no his family needed him, his brothers and sisters, he needed to be there for them. He needed to be their watcher. That was why he was fighting in this war after all, that was why he dared to risk the lives of his men and women he cared for in such a bloody campaign. The commander pinched his nose, and shook his head, trying to steer away from such dreadful thoughts. Yes, now wasn't the time for fear, now was the time for preparation.
Leon fastened his scabbard to his belt and threw on his blue blanket of a cloak. He took in a deep breath, getting what oxygen he could out of the dry air. He casually pressed his arm against the flap of a tent to see a camp, busily at work as soldiers prepared fires and unloaded stores of meat. Seeing as they were still preparing breakfast, Leon decided that now was a good time to try and find that blond Nabatan boy he'd met the other day. The lad's unwavering presence and professional attitude had caught his eye. Leon wanted to have a chat with him, learn a little bit more about him, and, depending on how much the boy impressed him, see if he was worth hiring, or more so worth considering for a job. Leon was a tough recruiter after all.
None of the people milling about the newly erected fires shared the looks of the boy, so Leon concluded that he was in another section of the camp. Sparing little time, the intimidating swordsman set off in search of him
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Post by Valcrist on Aug 4, 2011 15:50:10 GMT -6
That night, Valcrist didn't dream. He barely slept. His wounds were shallow, and easily cared for and his only true enemy was fatigue. His body just about collapsed when the viscous adrenaline finally fled from his veins, he was exhausted. Far too tired to sleep, as it is. He wasn't sure when he finally succumbed to the sandman, but it was barely a moment later that the sun's rays poked and prodded at his eyes. It was a persistent beast, that ol' sun, no matter how he turned in his little nest it refused to let up. A boy used to waking up early, and that was a habit that really sucked sometimes. So of course he reluctantly rose from his grave, of course his body was sore all over from the strenuous activity from the day before, and of course he had a hell of a lot of work cut out for him. What with all the armor and weapons he's gonna end up repairing and... ugh.
Standing with a sigh, rubbing his face with sore hands, his mind had a hard time focusing on anything besides how much this wasn't going to be fun. Then again, it's better to keep busy then to be bored out of your mind. The pay's not bad either. So he slipped on his green overcoat, picked up both his blades, and stepped out into the world. The very very cold world. One that hit him like a haymaker to the gut. Why was Ilia so cold? With so much... snow. Atleast sand didn't make you wet! He had atleast two blankets wrapped around him last knight like some freaky human butterfly just waiting to break free. He would never get used to this, argh, if only he had something thicker...
His mind drifted from subject to subject, with the topic of "I am so cold" breaking in and interrupting his thoughts every so often. He thought about their commander, Richter. He was missing, as it appeared, and while Val didn't exactly get a change to know the man personally it was still distressing news. Richter was famous for his battle skill, so to think he vanished so easily wasn't a comforting thought. Val staunchly believed that he just wandered off, or something, because the alternatives were... frightening. Spending the majority of the last night tending to the injured, and searching for their commander, not a sight of him was found.
His mind also tend towards their tactician, Farlus is his name. Val made sure to make a mental note not to forget it, though whether it'll stick or not is another story. They fought mages together, and Farlus commanded him against that ambush. He was also the quartermaster, so he would probably be getting a lot of orders from him... He was a bit intimidating looking, then again all mages scared him. What with the power to tear reality a new one with their minds, and sow it back together like it was a ripped shirt. With the way he killed that man, he didn't want to get on Farus' badside. Val didn't want to be on anyone's badside really, but that was just a nuance.
By the time his mind began to drift to a new topic, he realized he had reached his forge. It was still early, people where just awakening and starting fires around camp. Probably to make breakfast, or something along those line. Wonder what they're cooking? It smelled like meat. A lot of meat. Hrm... how was that man he saw yesterday? The blue haired man. Valcrist still couldn't believe how calm he was at the time. What did he do when he couldn't find Richter? Maybe Clair helped him... Clair was their commander right now, right? It felt weird. She wasn't much older then Val, yet she was so influential. Still, underneath it all the blonde myrmidon had a hard time thinking of her as such. That'll probably be fixed eventually, when she chews him out for being an idiot which of course he'll do. Until then, however, it was nice having a boss that didn't feel miles away.
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