Marching to Destiny: A fantasy military RP (O/A)

[CatsAndCatsAndCats]

~Bartok Hallimont~

Bartok had cleaned his plate with a mechanical efficiency, and now turned to his men and the Emperor. He had an iron-hard look in his eye, as if to make the Young Emperor aware of the seriousness of what he was about to say. "The demon infestation in Blegvad is a major worry. If it spreads to Jaestam, we are finished." The Emperor looked petrified, and Bartok didn't blame him. There hadn't been a demon attack on the New Lands since his grandfather was a young man. While there was an occasional Grey Elf raid, it was never anything major, and Koradus' major ports were blockaded well enough to drive them off quickly.

"As I say, we must ride out to Blegvad as soon as possible to stop it, or at least contain it as well we can. I believe we should pass northwest through the plains, west of Kordhel and straight into the Pewter Hills. From there on, we can establish a foothold and determine the strength of the demon horde." Much depended on chance here. The report Bartok had received two days ago was quickly scribbled on a scrap of parchment and dropped through a hastily-constructed portal, probably by some poor soul who'd never write another word, but even so the outlook wasn't good. A lot of the population of Blegvad seemed to have been infested by Valtassi, from what the message said, and Blegvad was a sizable city.

"I should not worry, Your Majesty," Arch-Inquisitor Tyralai said smoothly. "The Fifth has been keeping guard in the mountains east of Blegvad. They shall take care of it before your new armies even arrive." The Emperor nodded grimly in response, his mouth thinning. For his own part, Bartok merely swallowed hard. The Fifth. Golden boys of the Imperial Army, gods bless 'em, heroes every last one of 'em, loyal to the Emperor... as if. They're as exhausted as any of us, and Tyralai knows it.

"But I must hear from my men before I do anything else." Ekkehard was somebody he could rely upon - in fact, one of the only men in this army he could call a friend, as he was of an age with Bartok, and the General admired his Cavalry Commander's strength and charisma. And though High Mage Nailwood may have been a Grey Elf, he'd proven himself trustworthy and strong enough to be someone worth listening to. Master Archer Beauclerc, however, he wasn't so sure about. An interesting character, to be sure, and that was about all Bartok could say about him. He was an odd one, that Beauclerc. "Ekkehard, Vidar, keep your men prepared for scouting duties. As for you, Brocken, do you feel anything? Any magical disruptions in this region? If so, you must tell me at once. I have a feeling this war could do great damage, and we must be prepared. Any of you, if you have an idea of what to do about the demon invasion, tell me now and I shall take it into consideration."



((OOC: Next post from me, it hits the fan sweatdrop ))

[obsidiankatana]

Ekkehard Heldenhammer
Commander of the Seventh Army Cavalry

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The food was good, the beer better, and the company was grim and crap. Most, in fact, were not even nearby. They had wandered to odd ends of the hall. Granted, to each their own in terms of company. Everybody had their tastes. This, however, was a day for joy ahead of seasons of misery and carnage. By the attitude in the hall it seemed many had already accepted defeat. Ekkehard wouldn't stand for it. He wasn't intending to stand at all, but that was beside the point. In between gulps of ale and bites of meat he eyed his fellow commanders and the Emperor, young lad that he was, and observed. Few would think his boisterous exterior masked a honed eye for detail, but one did not achieve command through squalor and luck. He saw fear and doubt. Separation. Disunity. Things the Inquisitors should have noted and righted but were woefully ill prepared to actually do their jobs. They were more concerned with upholding the image of the crown and assuring its bearer than the people which were their rightful dependents. Worthless lot. When killers of men took on the duties of politicians, that's when society was truly in danger.

Ekkehard was jarred from his thoughts at the sound of Bartok. The General had just addressed him and those around. It drew the Commander's attention once more to the Emperor, the young man which held the throne by a thread.

He's worried.

Perhaps that's why he had ordered these men to dine armed and armored. He sought assurance. Strength of arms. To see those that would be slaying in his name and for his land, to be reminded of their might that he may forget that of their enemies. Well, if that was the case, Ekkehard intended to deliver. Much as this new lad was unproven where his father was tried and true, he held the Imperial throne and it lay to the Kordian Armies to ensure he kept it until peaceful rest took hold.

"Right you are, General. I'll have my fastest beasts mustered along the sharpest eyes. We'll know what we're fighting yet. I've over three dozen men bettin' on the color of demon blood. I intend to make winners of a number of 'em."

The Commander chuckled and set down his mug, glancing over to Bartok.

"I'll have you know, General, though you may already be aware, that we had better damn well find ourselves at the crest of the hills. Fightin' in that maze of land isn't right for horsemen. Far too many traps to be set. We'll need charts of the region, I won't have live lost to spears behind hills and trees."

Ekkehard switched his gaze to rest on the young Emperor.

"Now if we gain the high ground, that horde had better watch itself. We'll rout them in a single charge, you mark my words. Worry not, Majesty. We'll have the demons fearing the thundering hooves of Kordian horsemen more than the wrath of their misbegotten masters before this season's end."

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[timt454]

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The whole day had been one high after another for Gabriel. First he received a new uniform for the formal parade and royal feast he was soon to attend, unfortunately his arm had a disagreement with sleeve and tore it off as Gabriel put his arm into the jacket. Secondly the new modifications on his arm's hydraulics worked perfectly allowing Gabriel to swing his fathers hammer around with ease. The parade itself wasn't too bad although Gabriel thought the general's speech was a little hollow a lot like his stomach, trying to keep growling quiet was a challenge for the young engineer.

After the parade was over Gabriel followed a group of officers and other up to the palace where the feast was being held. The sight of all that food Gabriel could barely contain himself, a small bead of drool escaped his mouth whipping. Positioning himself close to the food but close enough to the commanders Gabriel found himself next to a green haired man who was guzzling down a drink, not wanting to be rude Gabriel quickly began piling food onto his plate and stuffing the food into his mouth almost as fast. The beer was a little bitter Gabriel much preferred sweet cider to drink but he was a guest of his emperor so he decided to stay quiet and listen into the strategy meeting fortunately his arm remained quiet ticking over with the easy task of lifting freshly cooked meat up to Gabriel's mouth.

Being so close to the inquisitors had Gabriel a little worried, his uncle used to joke saying that they where all secretly automatons built to make people confess to their sins and take them away for cleansing. The fear of even opening his mouth began to show as his arm began to shake and twitch erratically "Please don't say anything stupid" He mumbled after gulping down his last mouthful of beer to force the mountain of food Gabriel had incredible forced down his throat..

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The machine does not isolate man from the great problems of nature but plunges him more deeply into them.

[IDoDrumStuff]

I'll cut the words from your mouth
You'll never speak my name again
Locked up and sold the ******** out
Don't think you won't see me again

→Via Sikil←
Shady Rogue
Via was growing hungry, and it was only a matter of time until he snapped and hit one of the Inquisitors at either side of him in the face, they were practically taunting the criminal, making him wish he had taken the option of beheading and just been done with the pain, but he of course wouldn't make his struggle obvious, so as not to either satisfy the vultures at his side, or snap one of their necks. He did however have a plan, a group of sergeants behind him were taking turns going to collect food from better tables, as their table was ill supplied to their personal tastes, and so one was now returning with a wooden plate of mutton and boar, to which Via took full advantage of, grabbing two ribs from the wooden plate, to which the Sergeant looked at the man, and then looked at his table and accepted his need for real food.. the Inquisitors didn't look pleased as Via ravaged the two pieces of meat he had stolen, but if one dared to try and remove it from him, they would find themselves missing fingers.

The bones picked clean of any edibles, Via tossed them in to the now empty pot of soup before him and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands flat on the table and looking at them idly, he was still amused at the appearance of his right hand, missing it's pinky and ring finger it looked like he would be fairly useless in any form of combat due to the strange shape of his hand, but he had evolved and conquered the initial problems it caused him, and his advanced skill in hand to hand combat had not faltered as a result, he was lucky he wasn't missing his more functional fingers, as he would probably find himself useless without a thumb or index finger. But yes, even without two of his fingers, he could still do everything he could do before, and arguably better after the intense re-training he went through to get used to many of his techniques whilst missing fingers. However he still regretted the whole day, where his brotherhood were caught up in a contract war with another, and his men were sent to go and 'deal' with the problem, and they failed. So Via, drowning in guilt for sending his men to what was now an obviously inevitable slaughter, went himself. He broke in and killed their leader, and on the way out, a few guardsmen and other assassins and thieves, however his combat got fairly loud when a man he was killing screamed in agony and he was caught in a fight he found impossible to win, at least ten armed and armoured men against one, who was against a wall. After hours of beating and cutting, they cut off two of his fingers and sent him back to his own Brotherhood to tell them to call off their attacks..and in typical Via fashion, he came back the next day with twenty five men and they raided the enemy base of operations, killing everyone inside, the man who removed Via's fingers was the only to survive, with two broken legs and something a bit more important removed, a much clearer message on who not to ******** with.

Those memories in mind, he recalled the many scars he obtained that day, a few of the stab wounds on his torso, many of the slashes up and down his forearms also, but the missing fingers made much more of a conversation starter, and he could see the Inquisitor next to him looking at the wound with disgust, "I guess marriage would be difficult..don't you?" he said, moving the hand over to the Inquisitor's direct line of view and flexing his fingers, which caused the two rough looking stumps that once were his final two fingers to move in a downward direction, which had become humorous for him to watch personally, but turned the stomachs of many, the inquisitor glared at Via wordlessly before turning back to his soup, which caused the ex-assassin to chuckle and turn back to the empty table before him...he wondered if he really had sucked the meat clean from those ribs...

I'll come back three times
Once in the name of deceit
Twice for your malice
Three times when I take you away