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 Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2010 2:33 pm
LANCELOT Lancelot never fell back unless circumstances were dire- and yet, in this case, his eventual 'retreat' was nearly an hour after the dust had settled from Cyric's sudden abandonment of the pass. Long after the sound of hooves biting the stones and the sounds of protesting steel faded into the distance, Lancelot was more than happy to leave the perch he had so jealously guarded. Without the enemy soldiers around- and with Beatrix attacking another fort- he had no reason to hold onto a pass that was completely devoid of purpose.
He'd stopped the bottleneck loosing a stream of enemy soldiers, and they wouldn't return to splash back- it was a waste to keep a cork in a bottle that was doomed to remain empty. For the meantime, it was long overdue for his beloved wyverns to fly the coop and head out into the world to do some serious perusing.
This land was savage, barely tamed- there were no terraces of crops, merely rows of them alongside cheaply dug irrigation canals. Where there could have been multiple levels of lush greenery instead looked oddly flat and barbaric, the rural citizens more concerned about the ability to gather silt from yearly floods than the potential to maximize output. Though he scowled at this, it was of no concern to him.
...Their farming methods, anyway.
Calling his troops to him and heading back to where Ezekiel still sat, Lancelot motioned for his troops to head to the pile of rotting corpses. Still, the bodies of the dead remained stagnant, their bellies already bloated from rot and the skin already starting to pull tight against their skulls. Those heads that had been exposed to the sun had foreheads that had begun to resemble leather- an unnatural darkening as the skin puckered and dried, despite the connective tissues that held them fast. Lips had shrunk back and pulled away from teeth whose gums had blackened with rot, their tongues already a seething mush of corroded tissues.
Those whose hides had been punctured leaked out various fluids- from dark, gelatinous, and aromatic blood to the rank odor of bile and intestinal fluids. It didn't matter what scents they were- all hints of death called flies to them like magnets, and the mountain of corpses was no exception. Even as wyverns dipped their claws into the soft, pulpy messes to draw out one corpse apiece, still the flies followed them in suffocating clouds as they strove to gorge themselves on the flesh of the dead. Rats skittered away with shreds of flesh and pieces of toes and fingers as their prizes, gnawing on them at their leisure as the last of the corpses was lifted off the ground. Despite their departure, the ground held the reek tight within its bosom- the grass was stained, the flies remained, and the odor would likely persist for days.
Those that were lifted into the air filled it with a noxious aroma, and even the riders weren't immune to it- men purged their insides into bags, not willing to throw up on their mounts. Lancelot himself felt his stomach turn on more than one occasion, but he was also in the lead of the flock- he smelled the least of it. The headwind blessedly kept most of the reek away from his face, throwing it into the faces of his followers. Likewise, however, he refrained from heckling any of them about it.
Flying his wyvern over the first of the fields, Lancelot let out a laugh as he tapped Mordred's side with his boots- with almost a sigh of relief, the wyvern rose to the sky with one last wingbeat before dropping the corpse into the rows of crops.
Dropped from nearly two hundred feet in the sky, the already soft corpse splattered on impact. Farmers screamed and pointed to the skies as the assault continued- not only in their fields, but on their very homes, in their cattle pens, and onto the fields upwind of their settlements. With three bodies left in tow, Lancelot swooped down towards a lone merchant caravan...
And threatened to drop a corpse on his cart if he didn't receive a blood oath from the man. Terrified, the merchant babbled an oath- he would only bring carts of his wares to cities and settlements flying the flags of the Legion.
Ah, yes, and a good day it was. With any luck, the fields would rot from the pestilence and the cattle would die, forcing them to either fly the flag of the Legion... or starve.۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 12:51 pm
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •  Through the night, a small Learanian army marched north, from Archesis. Not far form one group was another another group, headed for the same general direction. Deborah and Needles of the Learanian Guard had departed not too long after Alihi, and by morning they were coming up on good locations to pitch camp. The two groups were far enough away so that they could not see one another, but not too far so that communication would be long and drawn out. Deborah was more towards the east, and Needles to the west. But in front of them both the mountain range could be seen.
As Deborah's group approached the desired area, she issued the command to cease marching and and issued another one to begin setting up camp. The soldiers began to work, and soon enough, the area began looking like a fine camp. As Deborah observed the progress, she walked about the area, a soldier tagging behind her. "Dis place will make a fine campsite. Deh trees will provide covah, and yet dere's not enough of dem tah cramp us in. If deh enemy comes, we will see dem before dey see us." She began walking away from the main area, and out toward the edge of the forested area. The solider followed her closely. "Have all archahs ready, and place some around here as sentries. From deh information, our foes around here are mostly flyahs. If dey get close, dey gunna die. Cuz if any of my soldiahs miss an easy suhprise attack, dey know I gunna tear off dier limbs."
Deborah paused for a moment, allowing for the soldier with her to write down everything. She looked around, then took a step and looked out from the woods. She narrowed her eyes, in dislike of what she saw. Between the camp and the mountains was a lake that had several villages and scattered citizenry who lived about it. Normally, life in that area would be very peaceful, but not during this time. Now, brigades of wyverns flew about the sky, circling around ominously, as if waiting for something. When Deborah was finished observing, she turned back to the soldier with her. "Go issue deh orders I've told yah. Make sure camp is set up soon. I going tah see what I can learn from deh villages."
A quick figure soon darted from the thickly wooded area. The white cloak is wore helped to hide the dark skin beneath. As it ran, it took cover within the trees, as it made its way close to the village. Eventually, Deborah managed to reach all the way up to the back of a building within a village. The training she endured from her homeland taught her how not be seen seen as she stalked something, though honestly, her experience in the snow was rather lacking. And that wasn't just because it didn't snow in all the places she's lived except Learania... she really just plain hated snow. It made things too white!
When the halberdier had reached the village, she immediately overheard some of the townspeople talking. One asked what they should do about the invaders and of the demands. The other revealed that it was still unknown. Surprisingly, that man was referred to as the village leader. That made things a little easier. "Hey." Deborah whispered. "I hope ya not tinkin' about betrayin' ya country."The village leader turned after hearing a sudden voice and looked over to see a dark woman hiding from sight. It was odd to see her really, as Estarcia had no people of dark skin. "Who are you? What do you know of our problems?" "I'm nobody. Ya king has called on me tah help. If ya do as I say, I can save ya. But dere can't be any hesitation."The village leader gasped slightly, then looked around cautiously. It would be in their best interest to be rid of these horrible invaders. Their way of life was totally destroyed even if they did go along with the demands. "Y-yes... okay, I can guarantee it! What did you have in mind?" Deborah grinned. "Good. First, send out word to deh surroundin' villages. Tell dem dat you're goin' tah obey deh demands, and dat dey should, too. After dat, raise deh flag I heard yah were given. Deh oter villages should follow suit, once dey see yah flying deh enemy's flag. Finally, make sure dat everyone gets inside and is prepared to leave, when deh time comes. Send word to deh oter villages to do deh same. Deh enemy seems tah be waitin' on your decisions. Deh messenger shouldn't be stopped. Even if he is, it would be in yah best interest not tah reveal deh plan. It would only mean your doom. Do dis and I'll handle deh rest." She turned to leave."W-wait!" The village leader called out. The dark-skinned woman stopped and turned back to look at him. "When will we know to leave?" Deborah paused for a moment. She wouldn't reveal that she had a force in the nearby woods that could take on the invaders. If she did, word of that may get out, and everything would be ruined. "...Ya'll know." With that simply assurance, she left and departed back to where her group was waiting.
Once Deborah got back, she found that all her orders had pretty much been carried out. Archers greeted her as she entered the wood, and the camp was functioning well. There were no fires, as ordered, for they would only alert the enemy. Snow had been cleared to make for better walking around, and tents had been set up in various locations. A good portion of the food brought was such that could be eaten without being cooked. Blankets were available to help keep people warm. When Deborah came into the camp, the same soldier that had followed her around before came running up. "Good work. Now, we have some more tings we need tah do. First of all... let's send a message tah Needles."
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 5:01 pm
"Almost... aaaaaalmoooooost..." Needles leveled her Longbow as she drew the string back, watching as a Wyvern flew circles over the nearby farmland. Such an easy shot, such great target practice. She could feel herself leveling up already. The nocked arrow held steady as she drew the bowstring back to her shoulder, thankful she didn't have to account for the wind; there was hardly any today, though the bright snow and months of practice without decent moving targets could account for some inaccuracy. So, you know, instead of the tender neck joint, she might hit the wyvern's jugular, and though her arrow would still be traveling fast enough to pierce it, and it was just as deadly, it was much, much messier and likely to kill the rider.
And you couldn't question a a dead rider.
"Captain Needles?"
"Gah!" she exlaimed, releasing her arrow entirely too early and hearing it snicker-snack off between the trees. She winced at a cry of, "Ow, my aorta!" and turned, livid to face... Deborah's messenger. She didn't know his name, or pay attention to his face, but he had sweaty palms, so any message he delivered from Deborah was always slightly damp. "Ah..." She unstrung her bow and put it down, then pulled on a pair of gloves and took the envelope from him, broke the seal, and unfolded the mercifully dry letter inside.
"Mmhmm. Mmm hmmm... Yeah. Okay," she said. "This is good. This is very good. Tell Debbie I'll take my men and head there through the woods to wait for her signal." She pocketed the letter, leaving the damp envelope where it is.
"I... I'm okay! Except I think I need a healer!" came from somewhere beyond them, and Needles heaved a sigh. "And go see to it that guy gets to a healer."
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 6:08 pm
Arashe was bored. He was really, really bored. The Ranger saw no recreational value in mingling with his cohorts, sadly. Socializing with raucous gamblers, lovestruck teens, and those who were impossibly annoying never did strike him as something he would enjoy. So, he just hung back and followed everyone as they did whatever they did.
And when the time came to split the forces, Arashe decided to follow the archer girl. Maybe if their main archer was a bit under his standards, he'd think about going and kicking this "Watch" into shape. And if she was up to par, Arashe would just give her a mental pat on the back. Or something. His hopes weren't too high, really, with all the tales of the Watch letting a little girl get kidnapped back during the fall.
Watching Needles bumble about with the shot when the messenger approached her, though, almost made the Ranger laugh. The shouts and all that were far, far too comical for Arashe's expectations. But, he held the giggle fit in, directing his strides over to the leader of his little group. He'd heard that her name was something like "Noodles". And with the terrible job she'd done with that arrow, it seemed like maybe the name came from the noodliness of her posture, seeing how that arrow just flew off into the trees.
And after that silly little tangent about Noodles there, Arashe ended up next to the girl, on her right. He turned his head to face her, giving her a small chuckle before he actually tried to start conversation. "...So, you're the boss of this little group, right? When are we going to actually do something interesting?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2010 5:49 pm
Ugh, this was their army? Really, this was kind of pathetic, all these humans in armor with those blades.... it smelled horrible, and it made them so incredibly slow that the wolf didn't know how they could get anywhere in them, let alone make war. A fight should be the strength of your body against the strength of an opponent's, not all these... things they seemed to be carrying. And bows, and magic.... this was the first human war he'd personally witnessed, and to be quite honest it seemed like a rather cowardly way to fight. Kill them from far away, use the elements to kill them, hide inside armored suits and behind metal weapons... this wasn't battle, this was a contest to see who could hit the other enough times before they couldn't move any more. Rain was beginning to have a few regrets about following these fools. They were probably all going to get themselves killed and he'd have to fend for himself. But maybe the enemy wouldn't know what laguz were and he could get away with pretending to just be a wolf. That might work.
But he'd stalked along behind the others, skirting the edge of the forest; it hadn't been hard to keep up, since they DID move awfully slow in all that armor. And an army was only as fast as its slowest member. Rain hadn't had any trouble staying hidden, really. Once they arrived, he'd settled himself outside the castle proper to wait; and of course the groups had exited soon enough. Three groups, it seemed, each led by separate people. All women. How odd. Though women in his tribe fought as well, very few of them had been in high positions. The Queen, of course, was a notable exception. But really, his choice was simple. He WASN'T going with that group led by the dragon woman - ******** he hated dragons - and the little girl leading another group looked rather weak and useless, so his choice was the group with two leaders - the young woman with the bow and the lance-user with oddly colored skin. That would be his best bet.
For now, the wolf spent his time skulking around the camp, apparently trying to be stealthy. As if someone wouldn't notice a wolf about the size of a small pony prowling around their campsite. The horses were, naturally, rather skittish whenever he got near that area of the camp, but he ignored them. And he planned to ignore everyone else until someone came up to him with a weapon. And honestly, they probably would pretty soon. People couldn't just leave well enough alone, especially humans.
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2010 6:11 pm
LANCELOT It had taken nearly a day and a half for the villages to surrender- just fast enough to make the brigade's leader grin with victory, but not so fast that foul play was suspected. Lancelot had seen to it that his beloved Mordred had been anointed with rainwater that had been blessed with salt the night before- a sign of good luck, and a warding off of bad karma (like the topic number). His armor would have been likewise blessed, if steel didn't rot when exposed to corrosive salts, fresh water, and the breezes that accompanied their daily flights. He made do with putting a dab of it on his forehead, and placing several cloves of garlic in his riding satchels.
At the very least, they were aromatic. They also kept the mischievous spirits away, as if his own protective amulets didn't do that enough on their own. There were many little beasties, about- and he had to make sure that no one fell prey to them, under his watch. This land was essentially the Legion's, now.
The farmers bent their knees to the Legion, abandoning their homeland in favor of the mighty force that was favored by the gods- the force that had nearly drowned them in their own dead, spreading pestilence and withholding new seeds until the banners were flown. Even now, they were preparing to go down and make good on that promise- after all, a farming population kept happy would no doubt provide for the Legion, in times of need. Even if, you know, the Legion happened to have been the ones that not only ruined a year's crop, but left them for dead if they didn't comply. That was always a great way to get in touch with the citizenry.
Sarcasm aside, Lancelot preened himself at the thought of a job well done and send out his brigade. He himself carried nearly thirty pounds of seeds, bought for a cheap price from the merchants that now bowed to his every whim... for a price. Rolling his eyes at the thought, he tied up the large sack with a heavy rope and smaller pieces of twine to prevent the seeds from slipping out. The merchants these days were like prostitutes- every move they made meant more gold flying out of his pockets.
Kicking his boots into Mordred's side, they made for the villages, one at a time. Though they kept their wits about them, Lancelot was fairly certain that no one would bother patrolling this area...
Just outside of his tent, not moments after he left, a black cat purred and stretched out in front of the entrance, perfectly comfortable with sleeping there as the mirror in Lancelot's saddlebag cracked from fatigue.
It... would be an interesting day. ۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 12:53 pm
Well what’s so bad about a little coin toss now and then?
The Tempest King Ahhh come on. Live a little! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I'm betting my happiness life on this one That was a big ******** wolf, Joshua had decided to go with the majority of the guard led by Needles and Deborah, and had so traveled with the group as always in the front ranks. Of course it wouldn’t be a trip for Joshua unless he had a chance to play his favorite pastime.... unfortunately he had fleeced too many people and all though the solders and his squad were still friendly to him (If showing a bit of resentment)..... Nobody would gamble with the apparently extremely lucky swordmaster word spread to quickly for his liking sometimes. So he'd been left bored and having nothing to do but check his sword every five minutes, looking for something…. Anything to do his eye had been captured by the horses, some of which had backed up to the side of the small pen that had been rapidly constructed for them. Skittish horses usually meant someone was bothering them..... And as no solider on their side would make the horses that nervous he assumed trouble was up. A moment later his suspicions were confirmed as the stable boy barreled towards him shouting ,"Wolf! Wolf!" As loud as he could…. Well as loud as Deborah would let him shout (Nobody wanted to piss her off) …. So it came off as more of a frantic high-pitched whisper. With a raised eyebrow the swordmaster stopped the panicked stable hand and asked him what was wrong. "Big.... Wolf" he panted, "BIIIIIG.... WOLF!" the stable boy tried to use his hands to emphasize his point but failed.... no way was any wolf that big. "......... That big huh? Tell you what.... go back to your tent and take a break.... I'll guard the stables."So the stable boy had gone back and Joshua had headed to the stables wondering how hard worked the poor kid must have been. It had been fairly uneventful for a while as Joshua lounged inside of the pen on a stump that had been converted into a chair when he saw the thing, "Geez, kid wasn't wrong.... that is a big wolf." Even Joshua was getting nervous and wondered if he should go get help, he quickly threw that aside for the sake of his pride and instead walked up to the edge of the pen. He leaned against it and watched the wolf with a confident grin. Animals had some pretty interesting senses.... if it thought Joshua was nervous it might try to rush him.... although Joshua was fairly certain he could handle the thing ("Look how big it is!") it would cause noise.... which is what the army couldn't afford.... so he settled for watching it sulk around. Really it just seemed as if it wanted to be left alone. And it would be.... as long as it didn't come any ******** that’s a big wolf though. C’est la vie, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tell you what, We'll flip on it, Heads, I win Tails, you lose DIE
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Posted: Mon Feb 15, 2010 7:13 pm
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • "Are you sure about this, Captain?" "It deh only ting I can tink of tah do. I'm not a strategist.""But, you yourself don't have to-" "Enough! ...I won't sit back and have soldiahs risk dere lives if I'm not riskin' deh same.""..." "...How goes deh placements?""Captain Needles' troops are just about ready, along with the others. The volunteers are prepared, as well." "Den I suppose it time tah go. Les git movin'."
Hours had passed since the message had been sent to Needles. In that amount of time, the two captains had come to terms with a course of action, and had been preparing there troops. While that was going on, the villages had all decided to raise the flag of the enemy. To the enemy that would be pleasing, but it was also what Deborah wanted as well. With the flags raised, it would put the villages out of direct threat of being eradicated, buy some time before the enemy moved out, and most importantly put the enemy out of the air for a while.
With everybody ready, it was time to move. Out of the woods stepped a couple battalions, all foot soldiers, though none were archers. It was clearly a small force, not much of a threat whatsoever. Those that marched forward were volunteers who had made the choice to move out. Nobody walking out to a seemingly foolish suicide was being forced to go. The group eventually all exited the forest, and stopped out in the open. Though they were all closer to the forest than to the village area, retreating would take too long, with a force flying toward them. Out of the group, Deborah walked forward, stopping in front. She hand a long, slim spear in each hand, and carried two lances on her back. Oddly, one of the lances seemed to wield no wight at all, allowing her to move normally. Once out front, she then turned to a mage beside her. "Send out a spell into deh sky."
At the order, the mage began to chant the spell, and soon enough lifted his hand into the air. A moment later, small dancing flames began to swirl and grow into a ball. When it was a good enough size, the mage finished chanting, and cast the fire ball into the sky. It shot high up, until it eventually began to disperse and fizzle out. The height and size was sufficient for it to be seen by anybody around the villages. When looking from the villages, the force could also be seen. It was a message to the enemy, that they were here, and wanted to fight. Deborah could only hope that they would react.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
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Posted: Tue Feb 16, 2010 5:01 pm
 The young fighter had a tendency to march slightly out-of-step with his fellow Guard members; it was a simple rhythm he failed to master, much like the art of swinging an axe and actually striking his target.
Today, his grandmother wasn't around to confiscate his hip flask, and as he followed Deborah's crowd out, he began to increasingly suspect that it wasn't a safe place to be. He lifted his flask for a sip and screwed the top back on. "Oi, De-- er, Cap'n Deborah, maybe I wasn' payin' good attention, what are we doin' out here, 'gain?" He looked around furtively. "'Cause see, I dunno, seems like walkin' out here's a bad idea, after we bin sneakin' around the woods all day." He most decidedly hadn't been paying attention; in all likelihood, Dietrich had just spotted a group of people walking past him and joined them thoughtlessly.
"So... yeah," he said, shirking back from Deborah's gaze, "Jus' thinkin', maybe if we go back in the woods, we'd be, you know..."
And then he watched a ball of light rise into the sky directly above them.
He unscrewed the cap on his flask and drained the damn thing.
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Posted: Tue Feb 16, 2010 5:34 pm
LANCELOT What was this- a welcome party?
From so high in the sky, it was easy to spot the first foot soldiers that arrogantly stepped forward from the tree line. Did they even try to conceal themselves? From a quick sweep, it was obvious that there wasn't an archer among them- if they had mages, they hid them well. In any event, such a small battalion wasn't a threat to him. Motioning for his troops to follow his lead, Lancelot swooped down to the first village; if the enemy wanted to goad him out with so small a quarry, then he was perfectly content to spit in their faces and go with the flow of daily life. Nothing stung quite as hard as being ignored, especially considering soldiers' pride.
That was the first sign that something was amiss.
The farmers, who were notoriously sloppy, had their possessions in neat, tied sacks. The villagers looked jumpy, but when they approached, their grins were anything but sincere. Lancelot smelled a rat, but he kept his mouth shut and merely smiled back when the leader approached him to accept the thirty pounds of seeds.
"A blessing upon you, sir. These seeds will secure our livelihood!" But even as the leader bowed his head and extended his hands, Lancelot pulled back the man's sleeves and cursed.
They'd been had. There was no dirt from the fields on his wrists and palms- just fresh, angry-red chafes on their flesh that could only have come from burlap and twine. The fact that the leader had the marks on him only cemented that certainty in his mind. Motioning for his soldiers to do the same, they pulled up the sleeves of half a dozen merchants and their wives- it was far less obvious on the women's hands, but the men bore the red marks from the twine that held their burlap sacks closed. These men, more than the leader, had given them away; the merchants never did the agricultural work themselves, and so could not blame their welted skin on 'sudden splinters'.
Furious, Lancelot let out a mighty roar and struck down the leader where he stood- his lance crunched the man's ribs, and he could feel the older man's lungs collapsing through the trembling spasms of his chest. Moving back to his mount, he continued to drag the man who continued to pitifully shriek, his mewls barely audible as he continued to spurt blood from his chest; Lancelot cared not that the figments of the man's ribs ground audibly and painfully against one another. It took another twisting jerk to remove the still drowning man from the spearhead, and a borrowed axe allowed him to defile the body one last time.
The villagers screamed as they watched this commander yank the last of the loose skin from the otherwise decapitated form of their leader, but what did he care? Lancelot slid the head under his arm and saddled up on his mount with a roar.
"To the air! All of you! Away from these thrice-damned whorespawn!" Grabbing the bag of seeds again and watching as his men each grabbed a bag of the villagers' possessions, they made for the sky, towards the brigade that had taunted them so openly before. Now, a flare went up for the sky- were they so brazen, to laugh at him now?
If he'd had a torch, he would have thrown it directly into the small huts they lived in. Or perhaps he would have burned them alive. It didn't matter, now. The enemy had roused the ire of Lancelot.
Letting his brigade scream their war cries as he alone flew within firing distance of a potentially hidden ballista, Lancelot held the village leader's head up high before throwing it. If all went well, it would bounce and land in front of Deborah, perhaps a few yards away.
"I take it that you're the one who killed this man? Whose idea was it, to have them betray the Legion?"۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Wed Feb 17, 2010 5:39 pm
Well what’s so bad about a little coin toss now and then?
The Tempest King Ahhh come on. Live a little! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I'm betting my happiness life on this one The wolf didn't come any closer, which was good, once it had gone wherever it was going Joshua had been able to relax a bit. Soon though he heard a call for volunteers and joined up with the group that headed out of the forest.... and was greeted by a crap load of wyvern soldiers. The man beside him started drinking heavily from a flask and looking back at the army ahead of them Joshua nearly leaned over and asked him for a sip. If it wasn’t for the majority of the soldiers hidden in the forest he probably would have questioned the plan, but he’d been paying attention and could guess what was going to happen. He didn't like wyverns, so of course it would be his luck to end up where a lot of them. "When will you learn to listen to the coin dammit?" He thought to himself. As always he flipped his favorite coin before making a decision on what to do and this time not only had it landed on tails but had hit a rock and cracked in half, both sides landing on tails (around the same time as Lancelot’s mirror not that he knew that though). And as always Joshua ignored the sign and went ahead, which as always ended up biting him in the rear end Just then who he supposed was the leader came forward and threw a severed head at the exposed group of soldiers; it didn't hit him but still..... ew, he almost preferred a javelin being thrown at him. "Screw it." He thought leaning over to Deitrich. "Hey, got any more of that? I could sure use a sip." C’est la vie, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tell you what, We'll flip on it, Heads, I win Tails, you lose DIE
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Posted: Wed Feb 17, 2010 8:55 pm
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • At seeing the lone flier coming forward, some of the soldiers had gripped their spears, ready to throw it, if it was necessary. But they dared not act without cause or order. Their commander would come close to gutting them, if they did otherwise. Speaking of their commander, it must have looked odd for her to be the only dark-skinned person out in the field. And in most places, people with skin like that ranged from rare to nonexistent. Sometimes, they were even considered evil. It would probably be a unique sight, for this enemy.
Deborah watched as the head hit the ground and rolled until it landed a few feet in front of her. She narrowed her eyes, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Aside from that small reaction, she did not move. She simply stood straight. "Dis man made his choice tah stand against yah, just as you made deh choice tah cut him down. He has given his all for his peopal, which is more den can be said for eiter me or you. If his sacrifice leads tah your loss, den it was not in vain."
Deborah glanced out passed the rider, and at the villages. She held back a grin, then glanced back at her troops, without moving her head. They seemed nervous; some were shaking, others making faint noises of uncertainty. But they also made their choice to come out here. In all truth, Deborah had no real idea where Needles really was. She could only hope that her fellow captain would be able to follow through.
The halberdier looked back up at the enemy leader, after her brief and more than likely unnoticeable glances. "I'll give yah but one chance tah surrendah. If yah decline, den dis force in front of yah here will decimate your troops. I need no reinforcements for deh likes o' you. If yah tink dat dis "Legion" yah speak of is so powahful, den you can come and prove it, yahself!"
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2010 2:50 pm
Nephenee was there the whole time. Unfortunately, she had to say her goodbyes to Edward. She had a deep down feeling for this Joshua guy. Sure, he stole, well, maybe not STOLE, much of her money, leaving her broke, but there was something about him that made her worry. Maybe it was because he wasn't going to take the war seriously. She hadn't the slightest clue truly why. With that, Nephenee ran to the farmhouse to quickly grab her lance and ran after the group who left shortly after she left her farmhouse.
Now, she was with them, preparing for the upcoming, yet dangerous battle. She was a little late though, eating beforehand some corn she had brought with her. Hearing the commander, Nephenee threw down her cob of corn and grabbing her lance, running after them. A little disorganized at first, Nephenee ran to the volunteer group, joining the second row of soldiers.
It was a long while before the enemy had came, but as she watched Deborah announce her speech to the enemy, she saw the severed head and gagged a little. Cutting chickens' heads off was one thing, but cutting off humans' heads were another different story, considering it was the most bloodiest thing she has seen in a long while. Why do people do this? She hadn't a clue, but this enemy wasn't going to get away with that. She tightly held her spear and looked at this Lancelot guy with the anger of a farmer. Deep, pure, rage.
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2010 6:08 pm
LANCELOT The woman... the woman was some kind of demon.
The one who stood in front of them looked like some sort of specter or shade, something pulled from the depths of someone's darkest dreams. Hair in locks that looked like the corpses of snakes; from afar, the thick hair looked more like the skin of dark vipers that seemingly burst from her skull. The word 'gorgon' did not exist in his native tongue, but even he could appreciate the image of such hair writhing and coming to life, a mass of snapping, venomous creatures with eyes of gold and fangs that glistened white against dark pink gums.
Though he couldn't see her eyes, he could see her skin- skin as dark as the soil that held the damned in place. Had she crawled from the earth, like some subterranean wyrm?Was she a living manifestation of shadow, or perhaps the reincarnated soul of a damned, spiteful woman from so long ago? A vengeful warrior queen, perhaps, or even a woman who had taken a demon lover? Had she been a demon herself? There was some diabolical force at work, whether it meant that she had fornicated with a demon or she had contracted with one. Her tongue was understandable, but her accent was foreign. Perhaps he was hearing the accent of hellspawn.
Lancelot suppressed a shudder, visibly fidgeting as he fought not to make eye contact with her- not that she was determined to make it, anyway. He'd been told many a time that to look into the eyes of a demon was to damn one's self to certain death. The gaze of a succubus- the race of female demons that was said to hunt relentlessly for the lust and souls of men- could reputedly hold a man in a dazed stupor until she decided to ravage him, body and soul. He had no intention of letting himself become vulnerable to any of this woman's potentially foul powers, and so kept his distance. She didn't even touch the head- would the flesh have pulled back from the bones, if she did, to reveal her demonic nature? And why was she so determined to act so cold towards men?
Lancelot's mind jumped to conclusions at an alarmingly fast rate, going from 'this enemy is a pushover' to 'this enemy is led by a demon woman after our souls!' in a matter of a few seconds and several hasty generalizations. The superstitious man immediately made the sign of the Divine Dragon tribes over his chest, and took a swig of a Vulnerary to stem the flow of blood he'd unintentionally produced. Had it not been for the sudden smell of blood, he would never have realized that he'd bitten his tongue sharply upon seeing the woman's unnatural features. He'd not done such a thing since he was a boy- to do it now was a bad sign, indeed.
Spitting the healing salve out of his mouth as soon as the numbness left his tongue, he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand and let his mouth guard slide down again.
"Foul demon of magicks unknown, I will not abate! No matter what foul sorcery you throw at me, no matter what denizens of hell face us here... The Legion will take this land, as is our right!"
Fairly sure he would regret his words, he nevertheless ordered the sweep forward. Aiming for the woman's head, he threw the glass Vulnerary bottle- still mostly full, however foolish that was- at the alleged demon, Deborah.
Individual soldiers made no difference. The brigade of roughly twenty-five riders swept forward, remaining high enough in the sky to avoid most javelin arms as they dropped the villagers' cargo on their heads. Two of the wyverns clung upside-down in the canopies of the trees, hissing and flaring their wings to make distractions of themselves as the others rained down anything they carried- small game, bags of food, spare wagon axles, and other normal necessities toward onto the volunteer army's heads.
Lancelot himself dropped the bag of seeds right on the only one who looked immediately dangerous, besides the demon- a woman with emerald hair and sapphire armor, who held herself and her weapon with a sense of fury and purpose unrivaled by the other soldiers. ۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2010 8:49 pm
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Deborah raised an eyebrow, as the wyvern-topped man spoke to her. He apparently thought that she was a demon. It wasn't exactly a new thing for her to be treated differently because of how she looked, but being thought a demon was a new one. It would have made her laugh, had it not been so remarkably ignorant. But it mattered not to the woman how this man saw her. There was clearly a hint of fear roaming the man's mind, if he jumped to a conclusion like that, so quickly. It may even come to work for her advantage; with the right manipulation, of course.
One of the javelins that the halberider carried was gripped tightly, as the bottle was thrown. It was an obvious throw, and Deborah knew that it was coming even before the bottle had left the man's hands. It wasn't exactly a surprise attack. The distance between the two leaders was enough for Deborah to react, and thus moved her body slightly to the side, while not taking her eyes off of the enemy. The bottle flew passed and landed at the feet of a soldier behind her. The first figurative swing had been made.
The fliers then came forward. The fight was beginning. But the wyverns had to be closer; practically right on top of the small Learanian force. Soon enough they were, and had began dropping things. Others acted as distractions, causing some soldiers to waste their throwing weapon, or not look out for what came from above. The larger, more thickly armored soldiers that were hit staggered back and managed to mostly keep on their feet. Although, that was only if they used their large shields to have the cargo burst upon impact. The smaller, more mobile soldiers tried dodging, but the amount of cargo being dropped made that difficult. Some were naturally hit and forced to the ground. Some were even hit in the head, and knocked right into unconsciousness. It was a good thing they had helmets, or there would have been practically no chance to survive a hit to the head at all. Even with a helmet, a hit could still cause enough trauma to be fatal.
With her men moving about, Deborah was also forced into evasive action. The wyverns were close enough now, they were in the perfect position. Some soldiers thought to carry the more powerful of spears, but those would not go far enough. Others brought more appropriately weighted ones, but lacked the power to throw them far enough. Deborah on the other hand, had both the right weapon and the necessary power. After jumping to the side to avoid a falling barrel, which oddly enough was the one doing the rolling and not her, Deborah twisted her body and held her left arm out straight. The weapon in that hand also was straight, so as not to interfere with the proceeding action. Her right arm was brought back, bent into an angle, and she held the javelin in that hand directed toward the leader of the enemy, who was in front of her. She ran a couple steps, took a mighty leap, then powered her throwing arm forward, sending the weapon surging through the air, toward its intended target.
'At my first attack, let loose deh bows, so dat dey may whistle a tune dat deh surviving enemy will nevah forget for deh rest o' dier lives.'
At this moment, most javelins may not be able to reach the enemy riders, but arrows most certainly could. Needles probably already had her arrow loaded.
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