Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Jul 27, 2016 21:53:50 GMT -6
The ground was a dull disgusting mixture of brown and white, the mud churned up from the boots of soldiers mixing in with the drab that seemed nowhere near melting. In truth, it just made a thick slush that looked like a sickly gray-brown. The landscape was nothing to behold, and neither were the soldiers who would soon be creating ruin across it. Charon Cassius Brutus Dominus did not march with a regiment of shiny new recruits, or even veterans in an aesthetically pleasing condition. Their armor had dents, their shields were chipped. Their faces were grim. They were soldiers, soldiers of the Etrurian Empire who marched under the standard of the faith. Many of them had been mercenaries who had fought to liberate Brutus' land's alongside him, and they were now soldiers of a nation that would soon conquer any land touched by the sun. They were proud, well trained, well stocked, and they would be effective.
He had already passed the perimeter set by the current commander, and made it quite clear to the sentry he'd spoken to that he would not wait for word that he could approach. It was a power move, a way to make it clear who was in charge. The commander would recognize that, and agonize over how to prevent it, to make himself seem strong in the eyes of the men. By the time he found his answer, Brutus would have taken his tent and his cook.
That was how it played out. Sitting in a chair in the tent, Brutus rubbed his temples as he debriefed the other commanders. Their plan should have worked, it would have been perhaps the third thing he'd have thought of. Though he wouldn't have likely done it. It was a bit flashy for him. As they talked, a plan formed in his heads. A battering ram, and a sea of dead soldiers on either side.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 5, 2016 14:38:44 GMT -6
When the time for talk had ended, Brutus felt more at home. The sea of snow and mud that surrounded his tent crunched underfoot as he walked out followed by the footsteps of the men he'd now relieved. The grim faces of his men followed their commander as he went to give a final look at the fort before giving his final word on the plan. He stood well past the edge of the camp, but where he estimated where he'd be safe from any stray arrow. No man could likely make a shot that could take him where he stood, perhaps a few feet ahead, but not here. He scanned the fort, it was well made, two main wall structures. One a low gothic motte, like a square with rounded edges about six meters high. That was the one they'd breached before with the 'Warp' plot. For now however, the space between that wall and the second had been abandoned by either side. The second wall, the higher one of solid stone was a square around a single tower, the wall reaching ten meters at its highest point.
The battering ram for certain, and a forlorn hope. That would be good. Separate the brave from the cowards, and the dullards from the clever.
In his plans were a few of the remnants from the men who had preceded him. The battering ram was a distraction for one such remnant. He stood well behind the men who rammed the gate, shielded by a unit of his own men holding thick shields of steel above their heads, as arrows and stones pelted them. They rammed the gate as a distraction, as the men of the sword tried the obvious approach, the men left behind had moved into position on the other side of the fort entirely.
With a sound like a shrieking dragon, he knew it was done. Four bishops well trained in the magic of faith, had used a Purging light usually reserved for the erasure of sinners to breach a massive hole in the stone wall. Looking up, he could almost make out the regret on the faces of the men high on the wall. Before the messenger came to his side, he knew the bishops had warped to safety, and that the three units had begun to rush into the breach, most of them likely to be killed instantly. The officers who survived would be promoted. Those that didn't wouldn't be missed.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 12, 2016 21:49:07 GMT -6
As the Etrurian commander looked on, the Ilians atop the wall separated, some remaining to attempt to keep the soldiers working the battering ram from entering the fort unopposed, while the others went to attempt and stop the breach on the other side. The fear was setting in on their faces. Now he would see the measure of the enemy commander, how well he could adapt. How well he would be able to fight off the panic setting in within his ranks. That was how a battle was won, you needed to keep your soldiers in line, from going out of their minds to the point that they were dangerous. There was no enemy more fatal to an army than fear. Disease, hunger, steel, or magic, none of them could tear through the ranks quite like terror.
The gate came crashing in, and the second of the forlorn hopes began. The scramble was typically lead by young men. Second sons, bastards, or fools. When you're named an officer, even an Ensign or a Lieutenant, you're ready to stop taking orders. Each promotion is one less person telling you what to do, how to do it, and when. The chance at a promotion is always tantalizing, even when the risk is so great that more than three fourths of the officers who attempt it are dead within the hour.
This bore into the fort was no different, the first man into the breach was the son of a silk merchant, a young boy with curling blue hair and broad shoulders who had swaggered through camp. He was a fool, and the men who followed him didn't love him for it. Brutus watched as he was felled by an arrow, one through the calf. As his men swelled past him, crashing into the enemy like water on rock, he went to his knees. He'd either be trampled, or an enemy would find him and finish the job.
The second was a shorter man, older than the first who was looked down upon by nearly all the other officers in the camp despite being by some degrees competent. He was the bastard, the illegitimate son of some Delfian noble who'd been given his command to keep him away from the man's good family. He led his men not from the front, but near enough to it that he could be seen. He wore a helmet with a white plume, marking him as an officer above the rest, which while a touch foolish was almost admirable. He was quickly out of Brutus' field of vision.
The third was a man in between the first two in age, and his hair was pink atop a head too large for his shoulders. He was tall and lanky, and when Brutus had spoken to him, the man had not seemed confident. He was intelligent, but was unwilling to raise his voice, and Brutus had his guess as to why. He likely had an older favored brother, and was used to following, and so for him, this was his hope of time in the limelight. A pity the name given to the method of breaching a wall was as grim as the task. Brutus saw the men coming down from the walls to flank the intruders before he did, and he saw the axe first as well. As the blade of the weapon split the man's skull, the pink hair atop his large head turned to a much more brutal color.
After him it was a rare case. In the military, it was unlikely for a commoner to make it to the status of an officer. You would either need to pay your way, or have the right person in your corner to pull you up. This meant that when a commoner gained that special status of leading their own troops, they were likely a very dangerous opponent to face. This was one such man, far older than the other three, and with many more scars across his face and armor. He had taken the fourth position, which meant that his promotion was only guaranteed if someone above him died in the rage of combat. Still, it was likely his only chance at moving up, so it was one he was perhaps wise to take. He disappeared from Brutus' eye.
After that, two more officers led their men into the fort through the broken gate, and were covered by enough allies once inside that they were able to make enough of a foothold to avoid being killed simply by being too close to an unyielding enemy. After them, Brutus made his way forward, his personal men going in first, with himself and two thirds of the mages protected by their armored comrades. He was in command here. There was no need for him to take any unnecessary risk.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 13, 2016 12:55:24 GMT -6
Arrows fell like hail, hammering plate and piercing skin. The walls of the fort rang with the sound of steel on steel, shields scraping against each other, men screaming as they died, and the shout of orders. It was the symphony of battle, the concerto of death, and Brutus Dominus the Maestro. The din of battle was one he was familiar with, it was surrounded by this noise that he had made his name, and he no longer felt fear as the roar played against his ear drums. It felt almost like home.
As his unit made it to the front, the Etrurian's head was on a swivel. He took note of how the commanders of the inquisition fared, and was generaly pleased. The men who made it through the breach alive were managing to hold the army together, but the brigades that had lost their leaders were in chaos, fighting more like rabid beasts with a general idea of who stood with them rather than a cohesive unit. He would fix that, he decided, as he grabbed one of his own lieutenants by the top of his chestplate. "GO! Take a flag bearer and claim them!" He pointed at the brigade that had lost their foolish commander first, "GET THEM TOGETHER AND HOLD THE LINE!" The man hurried off, calling one of the standard men and managing to push his way through their men and into the ring of soldiers who'd lost their commander.
He repeated the same with a sergeant major, and the man was just as quick. Perhaps that would be the finest option for this invasion. Brutus could simply replace the entirety of the army's chain of command with his own men. Any private who'd followed his orders could likely out think some idiot boy who achieved his rank through social connections. He'd see how well the young sergeant fared, perphaps he would prove the general correct.
As they made their way through the fort, crushing the divided Ilian garrison, five of the sellsword heathens broke through Brutus' left flank, the thinner of the two. It was no matter, the mages he had with him were all competent, and he was no slouch. A swordsman in thick plate took a run at him, raising his sword above his head. Placing his left palm against his right pauldron, Brutus extended his right arm, and folded his thumb and pinky finger so that his three center fingers pointed at the coming warrior. Just before the man reached him, he shouted, "Fulgur!" A jolt of blue lightning formed, and rested just beside his three fingers. In a flash, Brutus' left arm extended, and Brutus held both hands on either side of the man's head, and allowed the lightning to be conducted through the metal of the man's helmet. With a scream like a child who opened his eyes to darkness, the man dropped his sword, and was pelted on either side by the raging fire of two of Brutus' mages.
The battle was going well. With his mages as an unexpected hammer, the nails of his soldiers hammered through the ranks of the Ilians, pinning them to the very walls that had kept them safe, and making them easy targets for the soldiers of the Prophet and the Saint. However, this was not only meant to be a battle, but a statement. And with a shriek over head, it was time for that to begin. The Wyverns had begun to move.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 22:19:09 GMT -6
Vanna had sent the Terminal 31st to support and buffer Brutus's forces while she dealt with Father Severus but never had she imagined they would go unused by him. When she at last returned it was mere days before the attack would begin upon the fort. She refused to be left out of the fun. She and her men would dull their blades in the enemy.
"Commander! How long must we sit idle!? I swear he wants all the glory to himself that Brutus!" One of the soldiers complained.
"Silence! We do not fight for glory you simple child! We fight in order to crush the enemy and make them know fear and the might of our faith. Long have we taken the most dangerous battles and come out victorious. My record is zero losses, yet we are unknown or spoken of in whisper. Fame is not ours, only victory."
Her words sent him chills. She was completely sure of herself. Her voice was intense. "But when will he send the signal for us to charge?"
"When it is time and he is ready." She stated simply. "Let him break the line. We will then storm and take the fortress and keep moving. We will not rest long so enjoy it while you still can." Vanna stroked the mane of her horse. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind as though it were whispering into her ear. Over the strained silence were the sounds of chaos and battle before a piercing shriek reverberated the air. A chilling sound from hundreds of wyverns in unison.
"NOW! WE RIDE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS! GLORY TO THE PROPHET AND DEATH TO OUR ENEMIES!!!" Vanna latched her helm and raised her father's great axe as she spurred her horse forth. Hundreds of horses trampled across the muddied grounds below wyverns high above.
With a shout of a warcry Vanna lead the charge straight into the breach formed by Brutus's efforts. Crushing unsuspecting soldiers beneath hoof and cleaving others open with her axe she and her men did not stop moving and killing.
|
|
Seraph Alastor
Halberdier
Posts: 16
Profession: Etrurian High Commander
Affiliation: Etruria
Affinity: Light
Profile: Profile
OoC Alias: GK
|
Post by Seraph Alastor on Aug 16, 2016 0:07:02 GMT -6
Seraph was always the type who opposed senseless violence. If there was a way that one could avoid the unnecessary taking of a life Seraph would try and go that route. In this case however he cared less about saving lives and more so about wanting to get this whole campaign over with. However it would seem that fate had other plans and now he must ready his blade for combat. It was sad seeing so many lives being tossed away. Unfortunately Seraph did not have the time to really care about those on the opposing side. They had to fall and Seraph wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.
The commander would have preferred to request an immediate surrender to avoid this outcome but alas he was aware that considering the circumstance Remi would much rather burn than surrender to Etruria, and so it would seem that Remi would burn today, metaphorically speaking of course. The point of all of this was to siege the port as it would prove to be a rather beneficial position to hold for Etruria. It’s just unfortunate that it would have to face some damage but that was the outcome of battle of course. As long as it wasn’t burned to the ground it would do.
While the assault on Remi from the front was well underway Seraph had to plan another role in the siege. He was tasked with infiltrating the port from within and forming an assault from the behind making it impossible for the troops within Remi to have anywhere to go. They’d corral them at one point and if that point they didn’t surrender then it would be easy to wipe them out from there. Hopefully it would end with a surrender from Remi, Seraph wasn’t in the mood to spend his day clearing bodies.
Once his men had been gathered and the bishops readied for the warp Seraph had only given the sign to commence the operation once it was clear that the front gate had been breached. The process wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of things. Seraph was never the type who enjoyed being involved with this sort of magic. It was a bit disorientating being from once place to another but this wasn’t his first time being exposed to this magic so he adjusted rather quickly. The formation that they had been dropped in created a wall. Those with heavy armors and shields stood at the forefront, protecting those on the inside.
Lancers behind creating a moving spiked wall that would be impregnable. They had put themselves in this formation in case there was a swarm of resistance once they had managed to warp themselves in the deepest parts of the port. It seemed that Remi was quite distracted by the forces at the gates, which was to be expected, so Seraph had ordered from the formation to open going from a tank like formation to a more mobile standard march. Heaven have mercy on anyone who had the misfortune of believing that staying behind meant they were safe.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 16, 2016 0:25:26 GMT -6
High above the heads in the fort below, Adamo glided on a wave of hot air atop his purple scaled mount Justitia. The Wyvern was young, one of the younger Wyverns in the whole of the 1st Inquisitional Wyvern Cavalry, or as the men had quickly taken to calling it, the 1st Airborne. She was small, the way she flew carried something that could almost be described as optimism. It was odd, that a servant of death whose form was so unappealing would almost dance through the sky in the same fashion as a mass of petals caught up by the wind. However, the flight of the beast could not remain beautiful and carefree for long, it was time to enact the plan of this new commander, this Brutus Dominus.
He raised his spear to hoist the standard of the 1st Airborne, and the signal carried as the other men quickly followed suit. Lowering his spear to its space, he raised the cask of rum that he'd rode with since leaving the camp, and dropped it down to crash against the inner ring of buildings in the fort below. The men behind him threw their own down as well as they followed behind. Then they wheeled about, preparing for a string of dives to pick off Ilians below. Lifting his spear once more at the peak of their turn, Adamo shouted, "ETRURIAN FIRST AIRBORNE!"
With the sound of wood crashing upon exposed chunks of wood and stone across the inner walls of the Remi fort. A smile slowly spread on Brutus' face. He had perfect teeth, he washed them regularly, and had always made sure they were free of blemish anytime he could see his reflection. His left front tooth had taken a black spot when he was in his early thirties, and he'd had it taken out, with a false one replacing it. He was a lord among men, he couldn't truly hold his station if anytime he opened is mouth men focused in on a gaping hole or a black tooth, the same as any peasant who'd never had a drink of anything but p**s yellow ale.
His smile wide he shouted, "Prophet's Third Arcane, IGNIS!" He lifted his own arm, positioning his hand as if he were going to choke a man. In the center of his fingers, a blue flame sparked into being, until it burned without heat against his finger as a ball of blue and green flame. He spread his finger into a wide open palm, and the ball shot out towards the thick trail of rum that now covered the walls of the buildings at the center of the fort as well as many of the Ilian soldiers. It hurtled towards it with great speed as the flames of the other mages around him combined with his own flame to create a massive ball that overtook the few Ilian soldiers in its path. It brushed quickly over the edge of one of the thick pools of rum, and a massive building went up in flame. The smile remained, the fire spread.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 11:03:38 GMT -6
Vanna brought her axe crashing down, splitting open her enemy's skull before promptly jerking it back and watching the body crumble to the dirt. There was a sort of whizzing sound before a barrel exploded mere feet from her showering the area in liquid. "Rum!?" The stench was strong and distinct. More casks were falling and Vanna rallied her men to clear the area, she knew what was coming next. The bastard would not wait for them to clear the are so they'd better be quick.
Soon after moving a large flame burst passed her removing all obstacles before her before exploding in a glorious blue. The building it struck went high in flames and pieces exploded out showering those below with flaming debris. Vanna laughed delightedly. "This! Is what we live for!" She saw Seraph's wall begin to close the escape. The battle would soon be ending. Stay and be burned, run and be skewered, surrender? She would give the survivors the opportunity to join her Terminal but that would likely be the worst fate for them. Then again she had to see what Brutus's decisions on the matter would be.
Vanna rallied her men to close them in and they beat back any and all that tried to move forward to them. It was only a matter of time before they realized it was over, and only so long before even the stubborn had to quit or accept death's embrace. Vanna laughed heartily to nothing in particular, just the joy of the battlefield and another coming victory. Brutus had interesting tactics, perhaps she could run a mock battle with with each other's forces one day.
|
|
Seraph Alastor
Halberdier
Posts: 16
Profession: Etrurian High Commander
Affiliation: Etruria
Affinity: Light
Profile: Profile
OoC Alias: GK
|
Post by Seraph Alastor on Aug 16, 2016 13:51:55 GMT -6
It would seem that heaven would have no mercy today as the sound of wyverns above signified that the end was neigh for the Ilians. Or at least the situation would look much darker now. There was no were to run as death approached from in front, behind and now above. The wise thing to do was to lay down your arms and surrender. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to watch as all the men around you get slaughtered before your turn arrived. It was a sad sight to see so many people scramble about to avoid the Etrurian forces or even decide which way to fight.
Anyone who would turn around to run would be met by Seraph’s men and was quickly done with. Anyone who would try and run afterwards would be taken down by one of Seraph’s archers or mages who lagged behind the wall of armor that inched forward. The one thing Seraph had been expecting was more of a challenge from behind. While it was the weakest point in his formation in terms of pure defense those who lagged behind were definitely well prepared for attacks. And there were a few stragglers that were either trying to run or commence a surprise attack.
Finally a reason for Seraph to use his blade, he was beginning to feel like he wasted his time even bringing a weapon. Those who were not blasted to smithereens by magic or weren’t stopped by arrows or lances and decided to challenge the Archangel himself found themselves quickly losing that challenge. It was disappointing for sure but it was to be expected. Most of the real challenges were probably taking place in front of the assault. However this would due for the time being. If he could see Commander Brutus surely at that point the battle would be done. Inch by inch, body by body, they were getting closer.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 17, 2016 21:08:20 GMT -6
The fort in blazes, the Ilians outnumbered and in hysterics, Brutus stalked through the city like a wraith. His head held straight on his neck, his shoulder square. The Ilians were not coming for him now, there were no stray arrows sailing for his head. They scrambled, trying to find a safe haven, looking for a commander, or a way out. The fire roared, breaking down the soldiers homes, tearing apart their lives in front of them with the flame alongside the sword of the prophet's army. They ran to attempt to save their families. They did not fight for anything but to live their lives, or more likely for the frostbitten b******S, coin. Brutus' men fought for Elmine, and her way. The true way. They would not run, for in death they would have their greatest reward. However, the graying commander showed no willingness to end his life in the town that might have been miserably cold were not for the fire. He needed to manage Her work, and he could not do so in death.
Flanked by his men, and the men from the academy, Brutus fell upon a group of Ilians. They were outnumbered, and now they were cornered, their choices to either run headfirst into a burning building, or the gaping jaws of Elimine's elite. They chose the men over the fire. They clashed against the men of arms first, an avalanche striking the canyon wall. Like the rocks, their swords and axes made dents in the canyon's wall, but the rocks fell in mass while the earth would stand. The soldiers fell with the aid of Brutus and the other students of the arcane.
Brutus himself was willing to assist. Three fingers pointed at a rather large man with a beard like fire, left fist to his pauldron, and then, "FULGUR!" A split second, a rush of energy that ran through his veins, starting in his heart and flowing like blood through each artery until it reached his hand. If man could perceive a second like a day, he would have viewed it as a ball no larger than a coin suddenly came into being in front of Brutus' middle finger, a ball of blue lightning spinning so fast it appeared still. Then, all in the same second, the ball widening into a circle the size of Brutus' hand, then from the center moving like a pulled string, every inch of the sudden jagged bolt that moved forward, the circle shrunk as it was pulled towards its target. By the time the circle was gone, the bolt of lightning had reached the man, and he and his beard were both shocked by the violent magic of the storm. In the moment of the Jolt, the man's defense crumbled, and if he did not die from the lightning, a spear taking him in the throat finished him.
As Brutus turned, he began to focus his mind on the image of a flame, and after a few moments of regaining his energy and working on preparing mentally for the spell, he extended his hand and bent his fingers as if he were about to strangle someone. He chose the man.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 18, 2016 9:06:34 GMT -6
The men were routed or fleeing. Those that ran were shot down by magic or arrows and those that were not were ran down by Vanna and her cavaliers. Cowards that would not fight till the last deserved to die with wounds in the back like cowards. Let them be known from the brave by their marks and be shamed in hell. There was one group of about a dozen that had not run. They clustered with weapons up in a huddle, all of them pointed at her before a. Arrow was loosed and struck her shoulder plate. The arrow slid past and harmlessly off of her.
Pointing at the crowd her men took the silent order and a barrage of arrows felled them all save the brave or perhaps foolish archer. Dismounting Vanna lumbered towards the man stopping just short of trampling him herself. He did not shy away from her instead he looked up defiantly. "You have a choice archer." Her breath could be seen coming from her helm like smoke from the devil. "You can fall here like the rest or join my Terminal. The look in your eyes tells me you will not stop until a goal is met."
"You monsters slaughtered all my comrades! Never will I ser-!" He was suddenly slammed to the ground by his throat.
"To serve me is to serve the highest cause. Even if you refuse now, time and some introspection will alter your perception of the matter." Vanna let the man free standing tall again as he spluttered for air. Turning her back to him she walked calmly to her mount. It would be time to plan their movements forward.
The young archer began to rise before other soldiers restrained him and pulled him from the battle screaming. Yes, he had the heart of a warrior. Whyever was he an archer?
|
|
Seraph Alastor
Halberdier
Posts: 16
Profession: Etrurian High Commander
Affiliation: Etruria
Affinity: Light
Profile: Profile
OoC Alias: GK
|
Post by Seraph Alastor on Aug 18, 2016 20:10:42 GMT -6
If there was anything that Seraph could admire about these Ilians was their persistence. That is of course it was that or just pure stupidity at this point. As more and more soldiers were run through it would be clear to anyone that they were fighting a losing battle. Though it never surprised Seraph to see the lengths someone would go to for their home. It was a bit concerning to see those led by his fellow commanders slay their enemies with what felt like such anger and contempt. War would of course do that to a person so Seraph didn’t blame them nor feel much about it besides hoping no one took it too far.
His own men understood that they were not butchers. They would surely carry out the will of the Prophet and more importantly the Saint but they were not animals. Anyone who would lay down their arms was not harmed and was taken in. Same with those who could not fight any longer, Seraph wasn’t a cruel man when he didn’t need be. Soon the different sides of the Etrurian forces would be basically within arm’s reach of each other. Then they could end this mess and get on with other business. There was much of Ilia that needed to be dealt with and spending too much time on a port wouldn’t be helpful.
For now he had to deal with the stragglers that decided to attack him. A few that came at him where met with lances of some of Seraph’s men. An annoying interruption to what would have been Seraph’s battle but to be expected, no one wanted to be the man that let Archangel get wounded. Fortunately for Seraph’s entertainment a few managed to break through, racing straight for him. They swung their weapons wildly, no sense of composure at all. Either they were hysteric or were those who ran and hid due to inexperience or perhaps both. Fear and anger probably drove them to charge into action.
They were easy enough to entertain. A few swings of a sword that were easily either avoided or parried with little effort. When a blow had finally landed on the Etrurian Commander it was for naught as the blade didn’t even pierce his armor. That unfortunate soul met their end there with a fatal lunge by Seraph’s sword. The other, seeing his comrade murdered before him charged at Seraph in a blinding rage. Before the man could reach him he was blown away by magic, more specifically magic used by Officer Quell. ”Must you ruin my fun?” Seraph questioned, though only getting an annoyed look in response. As they moved closer Seraph could see the other Commanders. It was over at this point.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Aug 19, 2016 15:10:57 GMT -6
As the clash continued, Brutus narrowly what would have been a sharp thrust of an enemies spear to his ribs. He backpedaled from the man, and as he went he stretched his hand out, two fingers pointed at the man. He dragged his fingers down sharply, in a flicking motion, and as he went he shouted out, "Ventus Inter Aquilonem et pilos!" In his mind Brutus pictured a gale of epic proportions, an all encompassing hurricane that could overtake the whole city fortress in all within moments. In reality, a razor of wind no larger than a thin sewing thread burst from the motion of his two fingers, and within moments had crossed the Ilian soldier's chest. It could not cut armor, the most it could likely have gotten through would be the man's underclothes, but it did manage to stall his assault.
It gave Brutus time to let his heart rate return to its regular resting state in the heat of battle, for the flush of energy to leave him, and then return as a sort of stasis. It was no where near the time he would have liked, but it gave the graying commander enough. As the man returned, coming at him, spear point forward, Brutus began the incantation. In his mind he envisioned a flame filling an entire enclosed room, burning up all the oxygen inside, a strangling fire. He held his hands like he was the one choking the life out of a man, and as flame leaped into his hand, the spearpoint raked against his right side just below the left arm, breaking the Mage Commander's focus. A few more seconds and he would have sent the ball of flame hurtling into the man's face. However, as it stood, the flame died, fading from his hand in moments with a puff of smoke.
A hatched took the Ilian in the back, and he dropped his lance, panting, howling, screaming in pain. His own wound pounding with pain, Brutus was on the man in second. He allowed the pain to drive his focus on one thing, the same image as before. A choking fire. He formed his strangling hand once more, this time around the gasping man's neck. "Manus Ignis." The man screamed as the flame came to Brutus' palm and fingers. It did not burn the mage, to him it only vibrated as the same magical energy he felt any time he bent the elements. The man's life began to escape him, from both the flame and the pressure applied by the Etrurian's hand. However, Brutus' spell dissipated before the man had truly died. He clawed at Brutus' back, his hands becoming tangled in the mages cloak. He had hurt the mage considerably, the man would need to have the wound healed and treated. Brutus raised his left hand to the man's neck. It would be weaker, but strong enough. "Manus Ignis."
As the man's final sounds left his crushed burned throat, he slipped to the ground, brands the shape and size of the Mage Commander's hands on either side of his neck. Looking at their comrades, the remaining Ilians threw their weapons down. A smile split Brutus' lips.
When the fires had been put out, and the Ilians gathered, Brutus stood between the ring of Etrurian soldiers and the entire populace of Remi, who stood in a pair of huddled masses in the city square. He had his cloak wrapped around himself to prevent the view of his bandaged side that could be seen through the holes in his jerkin and leather. There was an air of quiet, save his sentries now posted around the walls to prevent a counter attack, every soul in the city was gathered here. They would hear his words.
"I am Charon Cassius Brutus Dominus. At one point in my life, I was much like all of you. I had no faith. One fateful day however, I happened to find myself at one of my lowest points, and I was lifted from the squallor by the hand of a priest in the service of Saint Elimine. In her infinite wisdom, she saw fit to guide me through the trials in my life, and to place me where I am now. Where I am now, is the commander capable of defeating you, of course that is something only accomplished for the hand of Elimine which led my action.
Today, I am offering you an outstretched hand, as this is your lowest point. You may repent, every last one of you, and be saved. Saved from death in this world, and damnation in the next. You will give your life into the service of Elimine as those who conquered your walls today have, and be saved in life the torture that would have been your experience in death. For you have sinned every day of your life that you did not worship Elimine, I offer you the chance to change that, and live the rest of your days out under her glorious light. Those that would let themselves be saved, kneel." His face was still at the softest it could rest when he finished speaking.
After a brief hesitation, nearly half of one of the masses of Ilians knelt, and nearly all of the other group. They had been split into city officials, nobles, high merchants, and commanging officers in one group, and common soldiers and peasants in the other. The latter was the one more willing to accept his offer. It was mostly the men who remained standing, but a few women and adolescents. Brutus' face hardened.
"To those who choose to stand, know that you will burn. Any children below the age of fourteen shall be spared and imprisoned for their folly, but any older shall burn lest they repent before the flame touches their skin." Brutus extended a finger towards the group of the upper crust Ilians, "These are to be questioned, take all, even those who wish to repent, to the dungeons. The others shall be burned immediately, here." His soldiers began to take the nobles away, again splitting them into those who had kneeled, and those who had stood. Many of the commoners began to kneel before those who stood were singled out.
As pyres began to be built, and priests began to lead those willing to accept Elimine's mercy away, Brutus did not move from where he stood. As he looked through his heavy brow at those who were to be burned, he touched the wound at his side. it had been mended by the staff and by the hands of a doctor, and yet it burned. His fury left the sting of the man's spear in his mind.
|
|
Brutus
Sage
Posts: 13
Profession: Priest
Affiliation: Inquisition
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
|
Post by Brutus on Sept 10, 2016 14:26:54 GMT -6
OoC: Near Spanish Inquisition level tactics featured in this post.
Ic:
The fires did not take long to start or to burn. Mercy was offered up to the last second, but once fire touched the wood the men and women of Remi were bound to, there was no turning back. Many cried once the flame licked their skin, many begged him to let them live. He did not relent. They had been given their chance.
Brutus evening was quiet, he delegated the beginning of the cities administration, and got some much needed rest for the next morning.
When he rose, Brutus had called in his physician and his primary healer. He had both look at the wound on his side, trying to see if it was infected, if it could cause him any more damage. Both of them assured him that the wound was healing fine, that it had been handled perfectly and he would be fine. He wasn't so sure.
When they had left him, Brutus had prepared for his day with rapid speed, and in a few minutes had made his way to the dungeons where the men of status in Remi were being held. It was time for him to do his job as Inquisitor, one of more importance than his role as commander.
The first room he visited held three prisoners. Two lieutenants of noble birth, and one Captain who'd bought his position. A pair of his shoulders carried in two stools each, and forced the men to sit three in a row, facing Brutus on the fourth. Brutus looked at each man, staring them in the eye, viewing the anger that swirled behind each of their eyes. They all planned to be defiant. That was never a good way for men to begin their interrogation.
Through his wearied face he spoke with a grim tone. "Gentlemen. You're being offered a chance to live. You will remain imprisoned if you do not repent, and submit to Elimine, but if you give me the information I require, you will live, and you will be free of harm. If you do not, you will endure a great deal of pain before your demise. Now, my first question, is the bulk of Ilia's military force currently in Carrhae, or Arphen?"
He scanned the men again, as they were silent. The Captain stared at the wall over Brutus' shoulder, his face twisted up in anger. The younger of the lieutenants was staring at him, an almost identical look on his face. The other man's eyes darted around the room. Brutus stood and walked first to the younger Lieutenant, standing in front of him. The young Ilian stared up at him, a fire burning in his eyes, and anger curling his lips. It was a shame that the man was a hethen, he had a look about him that implied he could have some skill as a military man. Shame.
"Is the bulk of Ilia's military force in Carrhae? Or in Arphen?" The man's face didn't change, he simply stared up at Brutus. "I would advise you to answer." The man's mouth split into a wicked grin, and with a horse voice he whispered, "F**k you." Brutus' face hung low already, too grim for his expression to change. The man was throwing his life away for a lost cause. He lifted his right hand, flattening his fingers against each other as his palm faced the man's mouth. "I will ask you this final time, it is wise to answer me, where is the bulk of your nation's military?"
The man spit on his hand.
In his mind, Brutus conjured the image of a lake. A massive, still, black lake. As he focused, and drew the sparks of the arcane through his body towards his hand, a chill running through his veins, the lake slowly began to change the edges were the first, they froze with a thin layer of blue ice, but quickly the whole lake was covered. Not long after, the ice grew thicker and white. The words of the Magi came out like a whisper, "Frigore Sanguis." He pressed his hand to the man's mouth, covering it. As the man tried to pull back, one of Brutus' men rushed forward and held the man in place. He'd seen this before.
The man looked up at Brutus' face as he struggled to move, the fire still raging in his eyes. However, his movements slowed, and the fire began to go out. The water that flowed in the oxygen in his lungs froze slowly, but once it had frozen, the man didn't have much life left in him. His body slumped against the chair, and Brutus removed his hand. The other men looked on in horror, the older lieutenant vomiting onto the floor while the Captain's jaw hung open in shock.
The smell of the man's guts wasn't welcome. Brutus would speed this up, to try and get out of the chamber before the smell made him get sick. He came to stand in front of the Captain, and raised his hand. Before he could even select a spell, the lieutenant shouted out, "Carrhae! There's a larger garrison at Carrhae and more forces moving towards it!" The Captain shot the man a quick look.
"Alright. Now. If I showed you a map could you show me where your supply lines run?"
After only about ten more minutes of questioning, Brutus left the chamber and prepared to go to the next. However, the smell of the man's vomit still hung in his nose and mouth and Brutus commanded on of his men to go and fetch him a goblet of wine. He needed something to take him out of it. As he went, Brutus also called one of his aides to fetch a recent convert as well as his stave. After he'd had his wine and everything else he wanted. Then he entered the cell of the former port authority.
After both men sat their stools, Brutus asked him the same questions he had asked in the other cell, planning to check their answers against each other. The man was as quiet as he expected, and when he gave the same, "F**k you," Brutus sent one of his men to retrieve his stave and convert. When the young man entered the chamber, the port authority's face went white, and his eyes filled with despair.
"Your son has taken to Elimine very well, he seems to understand that dark deeds are taken to ensure that her light might spread. If you tell me what I want to know, and convert, you may join your son, and he won't be needed." The father looked at his son, and said, "Aimo... please leave son." The young man's eyes rested on the floor. Brutus spoke again before the port authority could attempt to corrupt his son.
"Your choice is clear. Give into the light of Elimine, and you shall be released. If you choose to remain a nonbeliever, you can still survive if you answer all of my questions." The man didn't take his eyes off of Aimo as he said, "I'll die before I surrender anymore than I have." Brutus' eyes hardened. "We'll see. Aimo, my stave please. And you have the dagger?"
The young man handed Brutus the staff and nodded. Brutus curled his fingers around it, and looked at the defiant port authority as his men came and grabbed him by both arms. "I've brought my staff to ensure you don't fade too quickly. I believe you'll have information I want, even more than anyone else we have down in these cells." With a face filled with pain, Aimo held the dagger out for Brutus, but the Mage shook his head. "Aimo, you know why I brought you. Your service to Elimine begins today. Start with his face."
Three hours into his morning, Brutus sat at a table outside of his lodgings in the aristocratic district of Remi, eating a meal of turnips, grapes, cheese, and toast. Soldiers and townspeople alike worked all around him, to rebuild the ruined parts of a city that could have been left standing if only the Ilians had done the wise thing, and submitted.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 16, 2016 14:45:47 GMT -6
"We will be moving out to Arphen in the morning gentlemen! I expect you to have all your gear and needs redied by then! Word has it that it is the smaller force and so, we shall overtake them like a wave upon the coastline." Vanna had spent her time after the interrogations planning her next move. Her men prepared to depart once more and those that were done aided in fortifying for those that would stay behind.
It was a glorious day to be her, they had just won the battle handily and now it was time for her to begin her push against the enemy. Any that were permitted to join may. Otherwise they would remain under Brutus's command. By her side was a young man with his hands bound by rope. She spoke to him often and received only a few short replies oddly devoid of insults. She learned that the young hunter's name was Carlisle and he only joined to protect his home.
"You did a fine job as I see it. You stood against us until the very end." She praised the young man for his valiantry though he would want none of it from her.
"Why me? There were others that stood against you too!" He asked, for the first time he asked a question of her.
"Because you took the shot. It is one thing to stare down death. It is another entirely to bite his hand even as the scythe reaps its toll." She smiled at the boy. "For this I chose you to become a member of the Terminal."
"I do not want to join your murder crusade! Just kill me now or I will find a way to get free and kill you instead!" The fire of hatred burned deeply. It carried a fervor that Vanna had only seen in the most devout bishops at the height of their sermons.
"If you accomplish that then you deserve your freedom child. But do not expect me to take your threats lightly. You live by my good humor." She warned him darkly. "But do not think of us as a part of the crusade. We are the invisible soldiers and so too will you be."
The boy tisked and hid away his face from her. It was not long before another soldier took him away to somewhere else in the camp leaving Vanna alone. She began to walk around the fort looking for her fellow commanders. It was not difficult to find the lazing Brutus. "Hail Brutus! The champion of the Remi conflict! Taster of cheese and master of conversion!" She teased his good humor and planted her axe into the ground before him and set her great helm atop the table.
With a more serious tone, "if you've the time, I would like to coordinate our further movements. The Terminal and I shall be ready to move out in the morning, noontime if you should need it." She eyed his foods with a conflicted expression. Long had she denied herself the pleasantries owed to higher command but it looked quite tempting.
|
|