Behind Enemy Lines
Jan 10, 2012 0:41:22 GMT -6
Post by Richter Abend on Jan 10, 2012 0:41:22 GMT -6
As Clair inquired of their mysterious helper's identity, Richter couldn't help but shoot a glance full of both elation and anger his way. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and the rebel commander's mind had time to process the current situation, he was fraught with emotion. Feelings he had once locked away were now forced up out of him. Yes, Richter knew who the man was , how could he not? But he didn't want to say it out loud, because that man was supposed to be dead, and Richter didn't want to bring back the dead. But what Richter wanted was irrelevant a dead man was standing right in front of him, whether he liked it or not.
"Etruria, to answer your question miss," the brown cloaked staff wielder piped up as he walked out from behind Clair's pegasus. "But if we're doing introductions, I'll start. I'm Noello Floentes," the brown cloaked staff wielder piped up as he walked out from behind Clair's pegasus. "I'm Ardus's assistant in all things magical." The sage nodded and titled his staff in the large pink haired man's direction. "And this is-"
"My brother," interrupted Richter, a dour look on his face. "This is my brother Ardus Abend." The long haired Ilian took a step closer to the older man, eyeing him up and down. He had changed, sure, but there was no mistaking it. This was Ardus, Richter's older brother, who up until now had been thought to have died on the bloodiest battlefield of the first Bern Rebellion. The younger Ilian couldn't help but glared daggers at his elder, but Ardus, merely stared back at him with piercing green eyes; a tall and unmoving sentinel.
"You died that day, you know that? Eleven years you've been dead, or have you forgotten?" Anger slowly began to leak into Richter's voice. "What have you been doing for the last eleven years? Has it been fun? Running around with some scrawny mage kid?"
"Hey, I'm-"
"SHUT UP!" Richter snapped, violently swinging a fist in Noello's direction, before turning his unbridled anger back on Ardus. "All these years you've been gone, and now you finally decide to show back up? Now!? It's been eleven years! ELEVEN YEARS! Do you even realize what has happened in your absence? Do you think you can just show up, break me out of prison, and assume all is well again?" Richter's teeth were bared like a wolf's and his hands contorted like claws.
Ardus, silent and still until this point, let his head bow slightly.
"What can I say, Richter? That I'm sorry? Because I am. It might not mean anything to you, but I am." He spoke with an air of cold acceptance. Richter shook his head.
"You're damn right, it means nothing!" he shouted. "Mother is dead! Father is dead! Eckhart is dead! Our home is burnt to ashes, and Mary..." the long haired man's voice grew quiet. "She's all alone..." The words stung Richter, because he knew that was as much his fault as it was Ardus's. But still, why hadn't he come home? He knew his brother probably had his reasons, much like he himself did, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"I had no way of knowing, Richter," replied the larger man. His voice grew sad and distant. "I was captured by the Ruinz Bandits to use for ransom. They thought a commander of an entire Ilian platoon would make for good money, but our country would have none of it. Why pay money to return a failed commander?" Ardus shook his head. "So when that failed, they sold me into the western slave trade. But the boat transporting me and the other captured men ran into a storm and the boat crashed off the coast of Valor. I was stuck there, shipwrecked, for a month, until a boat lost on its way to the Western Isles stumbled across the Dread Isle, picking me up before it disembarked. Richter shook his head, unapologetic.
"Then why didn't you come home, Ardus? You can't tell me it takes eleven years to travel across Elibe!" he blurted, exasperated by his brother's excuses.
"Why? I was hurt, Richter. I was ashamed. I had failed my country, I had lost my entire platoon, and I thought I had let my little brother get killed." Ardus placed a hand on his brow, shaking his head. "I had survived, and now I had to carry the deaths of every single one of my men on my shoulders. So I thought it would be better if I just disappeared, if just to run away from the failure and the shame, though that's a lot easier said than done. I missed my family, but by the time I got back to Ilia it had already happened. So I went back to the Western Isles, and it wasn't until recently that I caught wind of you and your escapades in Sacae." Finishing, the taller of the two armored Abends turned away from the other. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Is that good enough?"
Richter, glared at his older brother, but as he weighed Ardus's words, he couldn't keep a hold on his anger. The rebel commander knew what it was like to have men die under his command. He knew what it was like feeling responsible for the death of a family member. Yes, he knew...
"Well it's getting late, and we're miles away from any Etrurian city," said Ardus as the sun began to set on the horizon. He nodded towards a pile of bags off a ways. "We've got supplies prepared for the night, so get some sleep. We move out a dawn. Come on Noello."
"Etruria, to answer your question miss," the brown cloaked staff wielder piped up as he walked out from behind Clair's pegasus. "But if we're doing introductions, I'll start. I'm Noello Floentes," the brown cloaked staff wielder piped up as he walked out from behind Clair's pegasus. "I'm Ardus's assistant in all things magical." The sage nodded and titled his staff in the large pink haired man's direction. "And this is-"
"My brother," interrupted Richter, a dour look on his face. "This is my brother Ardus Abend." The long haired Ilian took a step closer to the older man, eyeing him up and down. He had changed, sure, but there was no mistaking it. This was Ardus, Richter's older brother, who up until now had been thought to have died on the bloodiest battlefield of the first Bern Rebellion. The younger Ilian couldn't help but glared daggers at his elder, but Ardus, merely stared back at him with piercing green eyes; a tall and unmoving sentinel.
"You died that day, you know that? Eleven years you've been dead, or have you forgotten?" Anger slowly began to leak into Richter's voice. "What have you been doing for the last eleven years? Has it been fun? Running around with some scrawny mage kid?"
"Hey, I'm-"
"SHUT UP!" Richter snapped, violently swinging a fist in Noello's direction, before turning his unbridled anger back on Ardus. "All these years you've been gone, and now you finally decide to show back up? Now!? It's been eleven years! ELEVEN YEARS! Do you even realize what has happened in your absence? Do you think you can just show up, break me out of prison, and assume all is well again?" Richter's teeth were bared like a wolf's and his hands contorted like claws.
Ardus, silent and still until this point, let his head bow slightly.
"What can I say, Richter? That I'm sorry? Because I am. It might not mean anything to you, but I am." He spoke with an air of cold acceptance. Richter shook his head.
"You're damn right, it means nothing!" he shouted. "Mother is dead! Father is dead! Eckhart is dead! Our home is burnt to ashes, and Mary..." the long haired man's voice grew quiet. "She's all alone..." The words stung Richter, because he knew that was as much his fault as it was Ardus's. But still, why hadn't he come home? He knew his brother probably had his reasons, much like he himself did, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"I had no way of knowing, Richter," replied the larger man. His voice grew sad and distant. "I was captured by the Ruinz Bandits to use for ransom. They thought a commander of an entire Ilian platoon would make for good money, but our country would have none of it. Why pay money to return a failed commander?" Ardus shook his head. "So when that failed, they sold me into the western slave trade. But the boat transporting me and the other captured men ran into a storm and the boat crashed off the coast of Valor. I was stuck there, shipwrecked, for a month, until a boat lost on its way to the Western Isles stumbled across the Dread Isle, picking me up before it disembarked. Richter shook his head, unapologetic.
"Then why didn't you come home, Ardus? You can't tell me it takes eleven years to travel across Elibe!" he blurted, exasperated by his brother's excuses.
"Why? I was hurt, Richter. I was ashamed. I had failed my country, I had lost my entire platoon, and I thought I had let my little brother get killed." Ardus placed a hand on his brow, shaking his head. "I had survived, and now I had to carry the deaths of every single one of my men on my shoulders. So I thought it would be better if I just disappeared, if just to run away from the failure and the shame, though that's a lot easier said than done. I missed my family, but by the time I got back to Ilia it had already happened. So I went back to the Western Isles, and it wasn't until recently that I caught wind of you and your escapades in Sacae." Finishing, the taller of the two armored Abends turned away from the other. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Is that good enough?"
Richter, glared at his older brother, but as he weighed Ardus's words, he couldn't keep a hold on his anger. The rebel commander knew what it was like to have men die under his command. He knew what it was like feeling responsible for the death of a family member. Yes, he knew...
"Well it's getting late, and we're miles away from any Etrurian city," said Ardus as the sun began to set on the horizon. He nodded towards a pile of bags off a ways. "We've got supplies prepared for the night, so get some sleep. We move out a dawn. Come on Noello."