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 19, 2011 22:37:41 GMT -6
Clair had attempted to fool Farlus by acting tough. Her charade failed to convince one with such a keen sense for seeing through acts, however. The mage knew she was more injured than she was hoping to allow him to believe. He wasn't sure if she was trying to give him emotional support with it or just trying to keep up her own image, though.
A lad with a staff knelt before Farlus on Clair's orders. The orb at the end of the magical tool emitted a radial light which formed into orbs that trailed into Farlus' wound. The mage winched as the magic did it's job. Healing was definitely a helpful school of magic, but it wasn't without it's drawbacks. Bones, skin, and flesh being repaired at a rapid rate hurt. It hurt almost as badly as the injury it was reversing. Still, the pain was worth the result as even the burn marks from his cauterization of the wound disappeared.
Farlus dreaded the final portion of the healing, a bit he felt was even worse than the pain. An uncomfortable floaty sensation that resulted from blood and nerve signals resuming their natural course. One final jolt from his heart compensating for the newly created blood to replace the pints he lost and Farlus was healed. He took a deep breath and stood, pain free, but tired.
"Thank you, kind sir." he said to the priest. Farlus looked at his now filthy cloak. It was barely recognizable. Stained red from new blood, brown from dried blood, and gray from the dust that came from the rockslide, it was no longer white. In fact, it was quite stiff from the frozen blood and sweat that caked it's once pristine silk. The tactician groaned and un-fastened his mantle, revealing his black tunic with gold trim, stained red from his now cured injury. Farlus handed his mantle and cloak to one of the mages he commanded and walked to Clair.
"So what now, milady? I can search among the bodies and record the death toll. It may unearth some survivors as well." he addressed his deputy commander.
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Fran
The "Before" years
[M:0]
"I am so excited."
Posts: 66
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Post by Fran on Jul 19, 2011 22:59:27 GMT -6
Fran watched as Officer Feldsky went to the rear. It seemed the fighting in the front was over, the bandits retreated leaving their dead comrades behind. Some soldier was left here, mostly was spearman or soldier with shield, probably to do some "cleaning" here. The ice dragon reluctantly followed the main army into the rear by walking, she still kept her wings out but she wanted to avoid flying if possible.
"Uuh, it's still hurt. I need to find a healer." Fran had wrapped her wound with a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding, but it was only for temporary, she still needed to find healer or use a vulnerary on her wound. Well, but if she looked around, she felt the others need treatment more than her, the healers were busy using their staves to heal the wounded. "This is war?" She had sad expression in her face, she thought she would see a beautiful world when she decided to leave Arcadia, but now the ice dragon found herself in the middle of war. This wasn't what she wanted to see. And she had killed some people too, why it happened?
Fran walked slowly between the corpses, some soldiers were checking the bodies to find survivors. The ice dragon looked down as she walked, only looking at the white snow which had mixed with red color of blood. Her eyes were hollow, she didn't pay attention to anything in front of her. Then she felt her feet hit something, she looked at it. "Another corpse...Eh...Wait..."
"David???" Fran lifted the dead body with one hand and threw it to the side, she then knelt near David and put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Oh no, he is dying," she thought. Putting her hands on his shoulders, Fran tried wake him. "Wake up! Do you hear me? David!"
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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 19, 2011 23:21:31 GMT -6
"Mmm-snck, wahuh?" David awoke to pain, and a lot of it. "GAH! MY ARM!"
His eyes shot open and he clutched his left arm, which was thoroughly soaked in blood now. "Errgh, who... Fran? Is that you? I can't see much other than the blood in my eyes. Get a medic here, quick!" He attempted to sit up, but couldn't gather the strength.
His cloak was long gone, his Vulneraries and Booze along with it, so he couldn't help but ask, "Also could you get me something to drink? Ehehe...Cough!" Some blood dribbled down his chin.
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Marcus
Manakete
Dragon Reborn
Hell and back is a long way to go, but my journey's only begun.
Posts: 176
Profession: Wanderer
Affinity: Dark
Dragon Element: Lightning
Profile: Marcus
OoC Alias: Marc
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Post by Marcus on Jul 20, 2011 10:45:11 GMT -6
With the bandits now in full retreat, Marcus let out a triumphant roar. If they were going to run, he may as well give them something to run from. Besides, it had been a long battle and the black dragon was hungry. He lept into the air with a mighty flap of his wings and angled himself towards the fleeing bandit hoard. Gaining momentum, Marcus selected a larger clump of bandits and pinned his wings to his back. With a speed assist from gravity, Marcus plunged into the group and grabbed three or four bandits with his forward legs. He circled away and shoved the squirming men into his mouth. He chewed them quickly and prepared for another round. He repeated this three of four times until he was satisfied, and then returned back to the mercenary army.
As he approached, he remembered the mercenary he had crippled, and searched for him on the battlefield. He found him where he had left him, moaning and cursing. Marcus landed in front of him and waited a moment or two for the man to fully grasp his power. Satisfied with the effect it had, he transferred his energy back into his dragonstone, and was once more in his human shell.
"Y..y...you're th...that damn dragon?" the bandit stammered.
"Don't let my weak appearance fool you, scum. Even in this form, I could restructure your bones to make you more like the dog you really are," Marcus warned, poison dripping from every word.
"Wh..what d..d..do you want from me?"
"First of all I want you to stop that damn stammering, before I stop it for you. Secondly, I want to know who hired your group and why they attacked us. No run-of-the-mill bandit group is this organized. Tell me and I'll make your death less excruciating."
"I.... I don't know much. I'm... not really... that high up. All I know is... it had something to do with Etruria... I think..." the bandit replied, his voice dieing off.
"Well then. I guess your usefulness has worn out. Time to die now. Try not to squirm to much. I don't want to much blood on these clothes."
"No! Wait!" the bandit screamed. But the screams quickly turned to gargling noises as Marcus hacked at the mans throat with his bone knife. After doing some significant damage, Marcus simply turned and walked away, pleased with his results.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jul 20, 2011 19:10:37 GMT -6
A corner of Clair's mouth turned up at seeing her tactician back on his feet. He was definitely going to be good to have around for the recovery of the army. He was an organizer, like she was. But, he specialized in it.
"Farlus, I need you to get the caravans unpacking medicines.... The death count can wait until after the healers are properly set up. Organize search parties, and set up a temporary hospice until we can move away a bit and set up camp...."
Clair hadn't gotten a chance to see what kind of shape the army was in before she was grounded, but having two dragons had surely helped shield them from what would otherwise have potentially been an overwhelming assault. She hated that Corona had been injured with a passion. For more reasons than that she had taken care of him for so long.
Her thoughts were interupted by a cry of "GAH! My arm!" From not far away. She grinned a bit, and blew out her breath in a relieved sigh as she thought she recognized the voice.
"Looks like there's a survivor found already. I'll take a healer and a few soldiers, and start getting the soldiers in this area to work."
Tying off the somewhat large swordbelt she was carrying, she slung it over her shoulder, and let the iron sword hang behind her back. Those interested would easily notice that the belt had been designed for someone considerably wider than Clair's slim form, but it converted into a makeshift shoulder sheath well enough.
She gathered up a few soldiers and took one of the healers with her as she headed towards the voice. Then she noticed Garith sitting nearby. That was his name, wasn't it? He'd only joined an hour or so before she'd left the army in Edessa.
"Garith, C'mon with me. Keep your eyes open for survivors, enemy and ally alike. Those brigands will still kill you, given the chance."
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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 20, 2011 20:13:55 GMT -6
Farlus followed his superior's suggestion and set out to follow it. He gathered four spears lying on the ground around some of the bandit corpses and strode to a flat, clear portion of the mountain pass. He set down all but one spear and heated the spearhead with what little remained of his energy. After the metal was steaming and the edges turned red, Farlus thrust the spear into the frozen soil. The spearhead buried itself in the earth and was then quickly cooled, making a solid post.
The mage repeated this process three times, making the points of a large rectangle. The tactician silently walked to a supply wagon and picked out a white tarp from the back. Stepping up a raised bit of earth by one of the poles, he pulled out a roll of twine he kept on his person and cut a length. Farlus tied one corner of the tarp to the top of the pole and then repeated the process three more times until the tarp was secured to the poles, making a makeshift shelter.
The mage turned and then shouted with his declining voice.
"I need bedrolls under this tarp and any healers not already busy to report here!" the tactician coughed from his sore throat. He signaled a couple soldiers to follow him and they walked back to the supply wagon and pulled out a few bedrolls and boxes full of medicine. Farlus and his helpers carried the supplies over to the tarp where he found a few people laying bedrolls on the ground. The tactician moved a few to be more efficient with space and then laid down the remaining bedrolls.
A group of six priests and clerics stood beside the makeshift hospice. The mage walked to them to tell them what to do.
"I want you all to stay here and heal anyone who lays down on those bedrolls. We have medicine as well if you feel you need a break from using your magic. Your priority is to make sure our men are feeling good enough to move out when we need to."
The healers nodded and walked under the tarp. Farlus groaned at having to shout again, but took a deep breath and did so anyway.
"Any injured form a queue by the hospice over here! Any soldiers not in need of healing come with me!"
The injured soldiers made their way to the hospice and a small group of uninjured men reported to him. Farlus was thankful that he probably didn't have to shout for a while. His hoarse voice came once again as he instructed the soldiers on what to do.
"I want you all to pair up and search the battlefield for survivors. If you find one of ours, escort them to the hospice. If you find one of theirs, kill them." Farlus said casually. The men saluted, something Farlus wasn't used to seeing, and rushed off in pairs. The exhausted mage sat down on a boulder to catch his breath. What he wouldn't give for some sleep.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 20, 2011 23:13:08 GMT -6
Richter couldn't help but get rattled around as the cart, or at least that's what Richter assumed it was, bumped up and down as it moved across the rough terrain. The commander had learnt to ignore the sharp pains in his side by now, favoring the "grin and bear it" approach as opposed to griping about his sorry predicament. Besides, focusing on his injured ribs only made the journey more arduous, and seemed to just make everything hurt more. Go figure.
"Damn it!" shouted Richter, slamming his fist against the wall of his dark wooden prison. His hand throbbed with the force. "Damn it!" It sure as hell wasn't fun feeling helpless, but helpless was all Richter felt at the moment. His abductors had absconded whatever weapon had been on his person when they had found him, which dashed any hopes of him busting through the wood or prying open a weak point, and even if he had the ability to escape he doubted he'd be able to get far. He'd either be overpowered and thrown back into his dark box of a prison or somehow manage to slay his captors and be left for dead out in the cold Ilian snow. Was anybody even looking for him? Did anybody realize Richter was even gone? Scowling, the swordsman lay his head down on the dry lumber bottom. He was sure most of his men would make it out of that blood bath alive, but it didn't change how unsettling it was for him, the commander, to be out of commission while the rest of his men remained fighting. Well, that's if they were still fighting. Richter wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed since he had skewered that bruiser of an axeman.
The pink haired Ilian snarled as he rolled over, facing the other dark, lightless wall of the container. His mind raced. He had to find a way out of here, but how? Those bandits had been far too organized for that attack to have just been a simple, albeit large, bandit raid. Even the stupid bandits didn't attack fully armed military contingents. No. If Marle's report back at Ariston's fort meant anything, those bandits were definitely organized and set upon him by some crony of the Prophet or his Herald, and if Richter was as unlucky as he believed he was, this cart was a straight delivery to Etruria, probably so he could be made a public example of. Wonderful.
The prospect scared him a little, seeing how debilitated Richter was at the moment and how unfamiliar that was to him, but mostly he was angry. Angry he had let his guard down, angry that he had let an army dirty bandits get the best of him, and angry that, for now, the Prophet had won, whether he knew it or not. He had an army to lead, but as much as he hated to admit it, it looked like the Ilian would just have to lie down and enjoy his ride, because for the time being, it didn't look like he was going anywhere. Hopefully Clair and Farlus would be able to keep everything on track in his absence, unless they came looking for him, of course. Oh, Clair would definitely come searching for him. She always did.
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Leontius
Mercenary
[M:0]
These men, his men
Posts: 32
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Post by Leontius on Jul 23, 2011 20:26:56 GMT -6
The middle-aged swordsman kept a hawk's watch upon the young swordsman as he reflected on the term: mercenary. Despite the surprise with which the blonde boy met the band of mercenaries, he also had a tight grip on his rather odd looking sword. It was a very alien bit of weapon to the veteran mercenary, perhaps it was custom. That was the most likely explanation. After the number of years Leon had spent as a sell-sword, there was just about no sword, axe, lance, or bow of which he was unfamiliar with. Regardless, it garnered some of Leon's respect. This boy may have been young but he was not stupid. Only a fool relaxes his guard because somebody says that he is on their side.
Then the boy did indeed know of Abend. Judging by the term he called the veteran commander, Leon had to guess that this boy was a mercenary. His suspicions were strengthened by the boy's vocabulary. Soldiers tended to speak more professionally. But these were just side notes in Leon's analytical mind. What really caught his attention was that, according to the blonde boy before him, the battle was already over. While the veteran had considered this as possible reason for the young man's presence, he also found it very hard to believe that such a massive force of brigands could have been cut down within such a short amount of time. Perhaps they were less of a threat then Leon had anticipated. It was possible. The brigand body count was higher then the Ilian death toll from what he'd seen.
The young soldier, who led this band of men, yet held no official title, finished his report. An eye one him? Was that meant to be some kind of crude joke or had the the boy absentmindedly blundered? He furrowed his brow in annoyance. “I do not blame you for having your suspicions, Sacaen. Any competent leader does not trust a man because of words alone.” The stern commander stated in slightly harsh tone. “However, why would you lead me to the tactician and not the commander? Is he indisposed?” The harsh Ilian asked, raising his visible eyebrow. He tightened his grip, allowing his animosity to be more evident. “I pray that you do not take offense to my own suspicions, your arrival is very unexpected.” The veteran stated coolly. Leon didn't like playing that card. He always preferred to surprise a wood-be ambusher. However, he had some small evidence that they were genuine soldiers. So he felt it would be better to bear his distrust, rather then leave the men to develop their own paranoia.
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Fran
The "Before" years
[M:0]
"I am so excited."
Posts: 66
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Post by Fran on Jul 23, 2011 21:06:52 GMT -6
That was unexpected. David still wanted a drink when he was in the verge of death? This man was...something. Fran let out a small giggle and slapped his face. "Glad you are survive, it seems you don't need healer anymore." Of course she didn't really mean it, the ice dragon rose up to her feet and started looking for the nearest healer.
"Looks like there's a survivor found already. I'll take a healer and a few soldiers, and start getting the soldiers in this area to work."
Fran heard a voice of a woman, gentle but firm. She looked at Clair as the Falcon Knight gathered her men and took a healer. "Ah, there's a healer." Fran jogged toward the healer and pointed to David who was lying in the snow. "Quick, he is gravely wounded," she said, not noticing that the soldiers and the healer were staring at her waist, which was bleeding. Also, now the soldiers had noticed that they had another dragon in the army, they wondered if the third and the fourth were going to show up sooner or later.
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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 23, 2011 21:54:40 GMT -6
"Heh, ow." Fran's slap stung, but it was a good sting. Something he needed to bring his mind back. "Wait a healer..? Oh please no, I asked for a medic. Damn magic, ruling everyone's lives. JUST LET ME DIE, I'd RATHER DIE THAN BE HEALED WITH MAGIC!"
Regardless, the healer healed David's wounds against his will, then turned to Fran.
"Damn magic...mumble..mumble" David continued mumbling something about magic inaudible, but he eventually got up and stretched his left arm. "I guess magic is fine sometimes, but I still would've rather waited for my wounds to heal by themselves..."
Caked blood still covered much of his vision, so he picked up some mostly clean snow, melted it with some hot breaths, and wiped the blood off his face and eye. "I guess," he said to himself, "That finding my cloak would be too much of a hassle. Damn, I paid good money for those vulneraries... and the booze..."
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Post by Valcrist on Jul 23, 2011 21:58:25 GMT -6
He shot a glance over to the soldiers with him from the corner of his eye, to get a good idea of where everyone was. Just in case it did come to blows, which he doubted and hoped would not be the ending to this little chapter in the book that was his life. His mind painted out the area like a map, or drawing in his mind. His eyes drifted back to the blue haired guy, just as he was finishing his little spiel.
"I'm Nabatan, actually." He absentmindedly corrected the man. Not taking any offense, as a lot of people seem to assume he's Sacaen. Might be his fighting style, or his shirt-ripping macho physique. Still he couldn't help but wonder how many sacaens these people have met, since the ones he's met are never quite as dark skinned as him. In fact most people aren't as dark skinned as him. The tactician is probably the only person he's ever met outside of his home with skin that didn't look like they've been left out to bleach in the sun.
"Anyways, you are perfectly justified to be suspicious. Especially because there is, or rather was a lot of brigands around here. The short version is basically that you're in the back and the commander is off somewhere in the front. We're in the process of licking our wounds right now, so it's a little chaotic out there still. I don't know exactly where he is at the moment, as I've been back here. I do however know where the tactician is and he's likely to have a better idea of where our pink haired commander is." He thought he saw Clair somewhere too. If this was appropriate for a person to say, he didn't know. He wasn't really worried about failing his military talk classes. So instead he talked more on level, professionalism be damned. He was a blacksmith, not a soldier.
"If you don't have any more objections, then I'd like to escort you now." And by escort he meant... a word that means to accompany someone to make sure they don't get in trouble. Wasn't that still escorting? He needed a dictionary. Truth was, he probably really shouldn't be leaving these guys alone. He'd get yelled at. He looked at the other soldiers, more or less being quiet. Bless their hearts, they were probably snickering on the inside at how Val was treating the situation. Their helmets made it hard to tell if the expressions on their faces were bewildered or what. He motioned with his fingers. "Come on, let's go see our tactician." Who's name escapes Valcrist, he was never good at names.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Jul 23, 2011 23:27:31 GMT -6
Clair picked up the pace with her small group as she noticed Fran approaching, hurrying the healer on towards the injured swordsman. As the healer saw to David's injuries, Clair had a chance to notice Fran's injury more. It looked... well, worse than anything Clair had ever seen on a dragon before. At the same time, she noticed her soldiers getting an eyeful of the young dragoness.
"Quit gawking and start finding our injured! Kill any enemy." Clair set the troops with her to the task, sending them out to find the injured among the dead.
David's comments about wanting to wait for his injuries to heal naturally didn't fall on deaf ears. The Facloknight did think it was strange though. Waiting for hurts to heal naturally took months, while healing magic could accelerate it to near instant speeds. Magic ruling people's lives? Perhaps in some situations, but not this one.
"Consider it this way, David. Necessity rules magic. Right now, this army needs its soldiers up and working. Not laying around waiting for a doctor to stitch them up."
Taking hold of the healer, Clair directed the woman to staff wielding woman towards the pink haired Dragon girl. "See to Fran next, and then begin healing the wounded who aren't strong enough to move to the hospital at the center of the army.
Breathing out tiredly, Clair wished she could take a minute to crash, but the blond haired sky knight didn't trust herself to get back up. She just had to keep moving, perhaps around the fringe of what had been the battleground.
"Thankyou for coming and helping my squires on the cliffs, Fran. I'm sure you saved lives up there." Clair smiled at the dragoness. It was a sad smile because of what had happened, but an appreciative one none the less.
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Post by Garith Valkyrie on Jul 24, 2011 22:34:50 GMT -6
Garith did what Clair had wanted him to do. He found two injured men lying in the snow not far from each other. Garith brought them the were all the othe injured men were going. He hadn't seen so many injured and dead men before in his life and it didn't settle well with him. He took a deep breath and told himself in his line of work he'd probably be seeing things like this a lot. This made him feel a tad bit better and the fact that at least some of these men were going to be healed.
He ran off again looking for more men to help but he came across something strange. The young blue haired mercenary found an injured man from the enemy side. Garith went to help the man but the bandit growled at Garith
"Don't help me you mercenary scum!" The bandit growled as he tried to crawl away from Garith.
"Why be so difficult just let me help you. Maybe if you surrender we could let you live," Garith said as he came a bit closer to the bandit.
"Stay away! I'd rather bleed to death then get help from you!" The man squaked as he picked up a bloody sword from the ground and pointed the tip at Garith. Garith backed up he didn't know what to do now he refused his help.
"Fine be that way!" Garith growled. When Garith said that the bandit started laughing.
"You sound like a man by the name of Cryger Valkyrie," The bandit said. Garith made a confused face which gave away the fact that he knew him.
"Oh you do know him? Are you perphaps he son that he keeps talking about? You are, you're Garith Valkyrie I can tell you look just like him," The bandit said as he coughed up a little blood.
"What if I am?!" Garith questioned now a bit paranoid.
"Well then I feel sorry for you kid the Hellbreakers are after you kid they want you dead," The bandit said as he started laughing again.
"Why would they want me dead? I didn't do anything to them," Garith asked confused.
"Cryger didn't say he stopped talking to himself when he noticed that some of us were listening," The bandit said as he closed his eyes. Garith started shaking the bandit trying to wake him up. He was dead now Garith couldn't find out more on why he was being hunted by Orrith.
He thought about it as he walked back to camp. It was unlucky that the bandit had bleed out before he could answer his questions. Garith then walked to Clair who seemed a bit busy but he wanted to warn her about the dangers that the Hellbreakers could bring to their group. But he stopped himself though he didn't want to bring anymore stress to Clair so he decided not to say anything.
"Clair is there anything else you want me to do I didn't see anymore men out there," Gairth said to Clair. A person could hear the nervous tone in his voice.
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Leontius
Mercenary
[M:0]
These men, his men
Posts: 32
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Post by Leontius on Jul 25, 2011 1:27:57 GMT -6
Nabatan? Interesting. Leon had never met one of the desert nomads before. They tended to steer clear cold north, probably because the change in climate would invoke a quick and ruthless death. Leon was amazed at how the Nabatan was handling the frigid weather. He wasn't even shivering, he was just standing there, confident and steadfast.
"How unfortunate." The light-blue Ilian stated emphatically. This did little to ease Leon's distrust, or paranoia as some might more accurately put it. As much as Leon wanted to keep his guard up, his common sense was telling him that this wasn't a trap. The boy wasn't dodging his questions, he didn't even show any signs of anxiety. Which was surprising, and not just because the veteran commander distrusted him. Most people were unnerved by the the strict commander's face. His mug was rather unnerving after all. A pair of scars, coupled with one baleful, sharp eye, mixed with a mouth stuck in a perpetual frown created one frightening visage. He'd expected this thin boy to quiver or stutter or something. But he didn't, he was made of tougher stuff then Leon had anticipated. Leon didn't know how to take that. Should he be glad or disappointed?
"No." The serious merc stated thoughtfully. Which more or less meant that Leon wanted to stand there and nit pick his situation. He moved his right hand to his chin and rubbed it in thought. There was hardly a point in asking anymore questions. Either the boy before him was a very good liar and was supplying them with false information or he was telling the truth. Regardless of either one he was, grilling him for more info was no longer useful. All that was left to do was follow and watch out. “I can't say anything comes to mind.”
Leon nodded in response to the Nabatan. “Very well, just don't get too close.” He warned, bitterly. Leon shifted his fierce gaze so that, out of the corner of his, he could see his team, including Alecros. He knew that the other men would know to watch out for an ambush, but Alecros was a fresh recruit. Well, fresh didn't do the pirate justice. He'd certainly seen his share of bloodshed, what with his raiding and raising of entire villages. No, he wasn't inexperienced, or stupid for that matter, but he was new. Leno played with the idea for a moment and decided that it was always better to be careful. “Keep your eyes peeled.” He muttered. Without waiting for a response, the Ilian turned around and began marching after the Nabatan. One foot in front of the other, one hand at the ready, and one eye resting on the soldiers.
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Fran
The "Before" years
[M:0]
"I am so excited."
Posts: 66
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Post by Fran on Jul 25, 2011 21:19:23 GMT -6
"You can't choose, David. You were dying," the ice dragon reprimanded the mercenary. She wondered why he disliked magic so much, she would ask about it later. When she wasn't looking, a healer lifted her arm to get a better view at her wounded waist. "Thank you." Although surprised, she thanked the healer. The healer nodded and smiled, she then continued her work. It felt weird, but nice as well, a warm sensation was entering her flesh, closing her wound slowly and stopping the bleeding.
"Squires?" Fran didn't know that those pegasus riders were unexperienced, she had seen them fight as a unit, and they did pretty well. By the way, where was that red-haired girl? "Haha. For a second, I was afraid to go near allies because I didn't want to accidentally stomp at them, it's difficult to differ allies and enemies if you're big and wild." She laughed, that was true, she was wilder in her dragon form. Although she actually didn't like killing enemies as well. "But then I saw a girl and I just couldn't ignore her."
"You're welcome, Commander Feldsky." she added.
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