|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 8:26 pm
 This is a desert land. Lying across the streach of a long peninsula, brought next to death by the dying breath of a dragon known only in legend, and perhaps... was only legend. This barren waste land is inhabited by only the harshest and most stuborn of men and women, only those who cling to life for the dislike of deaths ugly face. Once a month, a grand storm passes by this streach of broken will reaching outward to appear soothing to those who had not before recoginzed its ominous intent. It carries in its winds the sand that leaps from the ground and mixes with the rain. Earth with water pours down from the skies buring any man caught in its wake. Only the strong survive, but there is yet to be one who can live... 52/23
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 26, 2012 5:57 pm
 ℭROSS ☪ ℜOKAIRO ❊≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎❊ Make your legacy a legend❊≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎❊
"We must have ben pas the curve on through Smuggler's Straight ta be gettin this far." Aria proclaimed spying a distant city upon the horizon. "Guess ya filled the sails with some good wind." A smile appeared upon her features as she glanced back towards the mercenary. He stood next to the small long boat dragging it's wooden form onto the sandy coast, tugging against the scrapping refusal of the slope.
"So we're near to Thieves Haven?" Rokairo asked of the former captain, the white cloth upon his face fluttering a bit in the wind. His garments were soaked in the salty waters of the Gallows Sea... or wherever their ship had happened to sink.
"Dotaria by true name...but yes. I believe tha the city known by Thieves Haven would be the one we be seein." In truth the captain had hidden the since of dread which had nearly crept into her tone. It was a rainy season, and the desert they now traversed happened to have particularly horrid storms. Land Thunder was what the locals called the abomination of rain and sand storms. The falling of mud from the sky which could bury a city alive was not so easily survived. Still it was just a day away to the home of scoundrels and wanderers, perhaps they could make it...
"Let's get movin Sir." The sarcastic tone with her formality had once more arisen to the surface. Still the mercenary simply shook his head and fell into step behind the young woman. It wasn't long however before he turned his white wrapped head to gaze upon her, a questioning look mingling in his eyes.
"Shouldn't we take the long boat, certainly it's quicker to reach there by water isn't it?" Falcon asked in honesty. Aria shook her short black hair, not even turning to address the man directly.
"No they'd be inspectan us if they watched us arrive by sea...only those of the desert coulda arrived by land...they won search us then." The duo pressed on, their boots dipping deep into the ever rising dunes, dragging their feet through the depths of the desert floor towards Thieves Haven all through the night.
(Exit to Thieves Haven)
❊≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎❊
◤A beast arises to devour his intentions◥
❊≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎❊
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 09, 2012 7:06 pm
“Here we are…the Desert Front” The Head spoke aloud, sweat dripping from all but Oban’s own features as the heavy and heated armor weighed down the seven of Skyron’s royal guard. “We are to find Ogrin, then we are to depart.” He growled, though seemingly with little energy for the impudent remark.
The troop marched through the desert encampment, passing by men who appeared to have not bathed in months, crumbling walls of an ancient structure eroded by wind and time, tents made of various pelts, ranging from camel skin to sand worm hide. All seemed rather poor conditions for any man to endure willingly…then again, few here were sent willingly. The Dessert front was one of the most dangerous places for a soldier of the Silver Knights to be, the environment alone becoming far more deadly than any war torn lands between. Their foes were a group of Samurai like men, the Jinshou, who ruled over the areas of Dragon’s Breath like an empire, even the city known formally as Thieves Haven was firmly beneath their grasp. Indeed few were brought to the desert front willingly, most were only sent for their crimes among the military. This encampment was made of men who had slain their fellows, raped women, cut throats, thieved, and abused their power for their own benefit. Even the man whom they now sought an audience was one such as this, a man who had used his rank to force his men to conquer allied lands or face execution for treason. Ogrin the Oppressor he was called.
As the Hunters lead the fallen heir through the ruins of long eroded castle walls, many fallen from the horrid dry winds of the land’s constant pressure, Oban could not help but feel as if he were going to be spending not so comfortable nights among these encampments for quite some time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2012 8:58 pm
Oban Sorrian
“Ogrin” The Head Hunter began, swiping aside the torn banner which covered the Oppressor’s tent entrance, stepping in with a confident yet weary stride, his sweat dripping heavily onto the floor.
“Shut yer mouth oaf, whats with ya jus bargin in like da.” Ogrin roared, his face twisted in fury. The Head lost the confidence of his steps, just as the remainder of his troop followed suit. Only Oban among them appeared to be reasonably dry however, for the armor of the Hunters was not made for the desert front, and here among the lowest of the Silver Knights, they could not for a moment risk removing their protective layer. As the fallen prince made his way into the tent however, the disgusted and offended appearance of Ogrin seemed to ease considerably.
“Ah, you must be Lord Oban, I’ve heard a great many things about you my lord.” He smiled, standing to give a bow to the young man. “The Titan of Garnoff is always welcome here, though he should better dress his men.” Ogrin chuckled gesturing towards the group who had accompanied them. The hunters each held their own form of fowl expression at the brutish fool’s words, resulting in an eyebrow raising upon the features of the commander of the desert front. “Wha?” he proclaimed scratching at his scarred chin.
“ Skyron Sorrian is now king of Garnoff, your loyalty belongs with he, and because of Lucheston and Oban’s betrayal they have been stripped of title, Oban to be sent here among your men to assist in combat. Such is s suiting place for a fallen Titan.” The Head sneered. Ogrin then stepped forward, removing himself from behind the smooth polished table to stand before the Hunter who’d spoken, and though his stature was high so too was his smell curling the nose of the red armored man. With a calm expression, glaring straight into the eyes of the Head…Ogrin took his fist back and punched the knight with all his might.
“Shut yer mouth or I’ll have Rorik gut ya in yer sleep. Here Lucheston is still king, and Lord Oban be just as he is until the Silver King dies. You spit out one more word against my king an I’ll stick a pike up yer troll hole an use ya fer decorations outside ma wall.” The words came forth with force, not so much as the blow which had knocked back the Head quite a few feet, but enough force to get the message through to the dizzied fool. “Ya look hot, lemme cool ya off.” Ogrin smiled spitting on the downed hunter.
“Lets get ya suited up an trained while these drouks pick up their trash an leave.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 12, 2012 7:55 pm
Stepping out into the open air, the sun bathing a flood of heat over the duo. Sand swept across the ruins, catching many to force their arms before their eyes, and it appeared as if the subtle wind was remnant of a greater storm further off towards Thieves Haven.
“yer gunna get ta meet our own little legens while yer here Titan, Rorik the Shadow, Drava Fury, and Trovas SkyEater. Each of em has earned their place among our finest, but I think you’ll agree that Rorik is the most scary out of the fellas.” Ogrin smiled with pride, his appearance somewhat childish as he spoke of his favorite soldier. “Matter o’ fact, you’ll get ta meet one of them right now.” First the smile grew broader, then it appeared to suddenly lift upwards violently. This of course was not because the man was becoming taller, nor was it due to the land rising, but rather that Oban had fallen. A deep hole opened wide into the earth, sand flooding in almost endlessly through the opening to a man made cavern within the depths of the sand. Where the fallen prince had been walking, a thick tarp had been laid, sand concealing it’s presence as Oban walked over the small trap.
“A pleasure to meet you Titan.” A shadow spoke from beyond perceivable light. “It appears you are quite far from familiar with the ways of the desert.” He chuckled, his accent thick with the speech of Azarians, yet his tongue would often slip into a pattern familiar to those nested at Smuggler’s Den. A moment later, the man who he had heard of appeared from within the shadows to approach the light, the dark grey rags he wore wrapped about every feature of his body concealing him within the darkness. He stepped forth without making a single sound, and lifted a hand to assist Oban to his feet. “The name’s Rorik” the soldier proclaimed, smiling beneath the cover of the torn clothes.
At first Oban had thought to be meeting just such an Azarian, with their thick white hair and dark skin, or perhaps a man who had lived far too long on the other end of the Gallows, someone who’s hair would hold a red hue to it so deep that one might think he was covered in blood. Spotting a glimpse of his eyes, a portion of his skin, and a small patch of uncovered hair however, Oban discovered that he was none of these things. His skin, though little showed, was clearly just the same as his own, though quite a bit more tanned, his eyes were a fierce blue and his hair seemed a dull blonde, though most was wrapped to be concealed.
“It’s nice…”The fallen heir began, coughing somewhat as he accidentally inhaled a portion of sand. “…to meet you sir.” Rorik laughed a bit, taking the Titan’s hand and lifting him to his feet.
“The pleasure is all mine… sir.” Rorik replied.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 6:21 pm
Cold to the touch--------------------------------------------------------------Railene trodded through the sand slowly, one foot at a time. She pulled the hood of her heavy cloak over her head as a gust of sand blew towards her. Even in this desolate place, she still could feel her own freezing touch as she tried to flick the sand off herself. Her breath was getting strained and heavy as she enetually sunk to one knee and collapsed in the sand. It blew over her in small gusts. She looked up at the sun, the brightness made her eyes water but she didn't block it. Hoping if she laid there long enough, she'd feel it's warmth fill her body. Instead, more sand blew over her in another light breeze. With no intention of moving, she laid on her back, awaiting whatever fate came for her now. She had become sick of the cold, and with nothing to do in life, she decided she would lay there. --------------------------------------------------------------Your love warms my heart though
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 7:46 pm
“Rorik!” Ogrin called down to the pair, a broad smile on his face. “Get em out of da hole an show em da wall. Then we’ll get ta trainin.” A small portion of sand fell into the hole then, just as the commander of the desert front turned and left the training to his trusted subordinate.
The dark clothed man then turned to look over at the fallen prince, as if attempting to use the dim lighting to determine the Titan of Garnoff’s worth. With a subtle nod, he then spoke.
“Well at least the idiot who banished you didn’t leave you empty handed.” He mentioned, gesturing towards the ax which appeared to be crafted of crumbling stone. Oban on the other hand hadn’t shared in the same thoughts as Rorik, for he knew the truth of Skyron’s intentions, and of how he managed to come by the poor weapon.
“Actually you could call this a spoil of war…if you consider it a spoil. The axe is something I broke off of a venge’s arm, and cut down at least twenty of them with. I don’t think it’ll last much longer though.” Though his expression was heavily covered in the wrinkled grey cloth, by the eyes alone one could tell that Rorik felt surprised at the statement. To think that one man could take on twenty or so venge on their own with such a poor weapon, he could tell that the Titan truly had earned his title.
“Well then,” He began, leaping from the hole with unimaginable force, as if he held the muscle structure of a mountain troll beneath his robes. “Lets head off to the wall then.” Rorik proclaimed, offering a hand to the fallen heir, who had fallen twice now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 7:47 pm
“Welcome to the largest piece of defense we have here at the Desert Front.” Rorik chuckled, gesturing with a wave of his arm towards a large pile of rubble standing thirty feet high. The loose stones and fallen pillars of what was once perhaps a form of temple now had been stacked upon the sands where they had sank into the dunes to forge their wall. It stood collecting the debris carried by the gusts of various storms, protecting a single side of the encampment from the fury of the Jinshou warriors. Starring upon it’s form as several men stepped about atop the poorly crafted structure, only a single question came to mind.
“Why only the one wall…wouldn’t four be more effective?” Oban asked, reciting the first question that all men asked about the wall. Chuckling somewhat at the question, Rorik then turned to answer, his sly expression covered by the thick grey cloth hanging about his features.
“First off, we only had enough rubble for one wall. The rest of the material forms our other necessary buildings, and anything left we have to use tents. Also,” Rorik began, lifting a cloth into the air behind the wall. He then moved his hand so that it stuck out just beyond the edge of the fortification, and just as quickly as he had done so the cloth was nearly torn from his hand with the force of the heavy wind. “The Jinshou carry drums which make the wind dance, they use it as a form of attack on unwary enemies and large groups… Their wind can only stray so far from it’s intended path however, so we blocked the path that the wind follows most often.”
Letting go of the small rag he had held, the piece of clothing sped away, as if carried off by a swift beast beyond the horizon. Rorik then turned away from the wall, walking further into the encampment towards the sounds of battle, a place where they could here and witness the skills of their comrades. “Don’t mind Tokos.” The shadow offered.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 7:06 pm
Cold to the touch--------------------------------------------------------------Railene's eyes were only closed for a few minutes before she began to hear shouting. Her eyes fluttered open after she wiped a fair ammount of sand from her face. She blinked several times before looking around to see where the noise was coming from. She managed to raise herself on to one knee, and finally managing to stand. Sand fell down her cloak and she realised, it probably looked like she rose dead from it. She started to slowly walk towards where the noise was coming from. Off in the distance she could make out what appeared to be a group of people inside some old ruins. Tents surrounding them and majority of the people going after one man in the center. "I wonder if they'd mind a spectator" She thought aloud. Without thinking more on it, she started towards them, a slightly quicker pace than average for her. --------------------------------------------------------------Your love warms my heart, though
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 7:14 pm
"Again!" The captain roared, the next poor soldier charging forward with his wooden sword drawn.
The soldier roared furiously in return, lunging forth with his training tool as if to skewer his partner with the blunt point of the sad weapon. Unfortunately for him, years of surviving in the desert were nothing compared to the training day after day that Oban Sorrian had endured to prepare himself as both Lord and Knight of Garnoff. The small wooden ax caught the lunge, hooking it as the fallen heir swept his tool past in a low arch. Then with a twist of his wrist, the blade was caught between the ax's false iron end and it's handle, torn from it's former wielder like a feather from a bird caught in a storm. The weapon thud softly against the sand, pushing away the grains as it made it's light indent into the eroded earth.
With a simple step forward, Oban then used the momentum of the man's lunge with a press of his hip to throw the soldier off his feet, falling much like the splintery tool, though he made a considerably larger cloud of dust than the former.
"It seems da lot a ya cant stand up to a pampered pric. The lads here for his first time...ya can tell by how much he's sweatin." Tokos proclaimed, slapping one of the soldiers who had lost to him just a moment ago. The soldier, though hurt, simply shrugged off the attack and began to argue.
"Sir, he's been given the title Titan of Garnoff...how much can we do aga-" The words ceased to escape his lips, another brutal hand striking against the filthy skin of the battered soldier.
"You'll do as much as ya need ta." The brawler growled. "You three..." He gestured towards those who appeared to have recovered from their last efforts. "Mind showin that ya arn't just a bunch o' knoxing drouks?" He asked, pulling at the thick cloth which caught the droplets of sweat rolling down his neck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 7:30 pm
Cold to the touch--------------------------------------------------------------Railene got within viewing distance of the men now, she could make out the faces on some of them. She tried to stick to the side where she wouldn't be as noticable, but made sure she could watch without missing anything good. She made note that all of the men looked alike, with the exception being the man in the center who stood out rather confidently. She took a moment to think to herself aloud, a bit louder than intendid. "He looks awful familiar..."--------------------------------------------------------------Your love warms my heart, though
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2013 8:10 pm
"Three on one...a good challenge..." Oban admitted, having mostly sparred one to one in the Silver Knight's training halls.
As the three surrounded him, the first of the men, who appeared quite a bit more brave than the others, charged forth howling like a mad man only to be hooked by the edge of Oban's ax by the collar plate, and bent forward. The prince rolled easily over the man's back to find his footing in the sands, swiping aside the lunge of the second soldier in the single instant. Even under the unrelenting heat of the sun pouring down over the men however, the Fallen Heir was no less clever, turning the arch of his deflection to strike the back of the first soldier's head roughly.
"Loshat, you're dead!" Tokos roared, the man groaning while he lay upon the shifting earth to cradle his skull. "Come on ya wimps!" he called, though Oban was certain the attempt at encouragement was futile.
The third soldier attempted to approach from the back, but as he ventured too close the Lord of Garnoff struck out with an elbow, doubling over the fellow so that he'd fall beside his comrade. By then however, the second soldier had returned with a high arching slash...one caught swiftly by the quick hands of his better. One well placed boot latter, the second knight was sent sprawling into a lone brick towards the outer area of the sparing arena.
Seeking to finish the painful trial, Oban turned abruptly, slamming his leg down to pin the third soldier so that he could feign a swift blow to the neck.
"Nosfeil, you're dead! Subo, get up here and keep fighting...." No response came from the second soldier. "Subo....Suborias Flouch get up here before I tell yer mother ya died in combat!" The commanding officer roared, turning to face the soldier who lay still upon the ground. "Uh-oh" He muttered.
A soldier clad in faint red rushed to the man's side, laying a finger down upon his throat to check the pulse. For just a moment he appeared worried, but soon the moment passed and his expression mimicked a calm mood.
"He's been knocked out sir, he'll have to rest a bit before he'll wake up again..." The soldier then placed his downed comrade over his own shoulders, baring his weight in order to carry him back to the tents where he slept. The commander however simply shrugged, and spat in the dirt.
"Suborias...you're dead."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 7:14 pm
Cold to the touch--------------------------------------------------------------Railene couldn't help but let out a chuckle as the single man took on all the others with what looked like such ease. She quickly covered her mouth as to avoid detection, but she was sure someone must have heard her, being so close to them. She sunk back behind a wall with a worried expression. "Hopefully they're too busy to hear me..." she muttered to herself before poking her head around the corner once more to continue watching the men train. --------------------------------------------------------------Your love warms my heart, though ((Sorry for the delay, exams are a pain.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 10:28 am
A cloud of dust erupted from the sands as yet another soldier dropped to the ground, the sun lingering closer to the horizon now that the day was coming to an end. There was a difference however in this particular situation, after all one would expect the soldier to have been defeated once more by the Titan of Garnoff. Instead it was he who lay upon the ground, struck down by his enemy’s wooden blade. “Common, make me break a sweat my lord.” Rorik taunted, offering a hand to the fallen heir. “It’s not that difficult to hit me is it?” He laughed as the former prince took firm grip of his hand. The two warriors then stood before the gathering crowd, for a battle between the formidable Titan and the legendary Shadow was no small matter. Rorik had been their lead soldier in all the efforts against the rising Jinshou forces, the spear head which had torn through the ranks before the orange headed drouks could yell, Tost, their most impudent form of speaking on feces. Upon his feet once more, the fallen heir took up his training ax once more. Holding a firm warrior stance, he stepped in, moving smoothly forwards so as to not give ample momentum to be turned against him, yet to become less controllable with the haste. Rorik replied in the same manner, stepping forth and swinging out with a wide arc holding a single short sword, craft from the same flimsy rotted planks that all the tools had been forged of. As Oban moved to parry however, his well guided refraction of angle struck only air. Rorik had let go of the handle just before the impact, spinning the weapon around the edge of the fake ax. Meanwhile the shadow’s own body turned in the other direction, catching the weapon with his free hand and slashing out at the prince from the other direction. The stinging blow tore through his skin as if the Titan had been struck by the full arc itself, knocking him backwards onto his shoulder blades once more, thudding hard against the sand. “Oban, yer dead.” Tokos laughed, his eyes watering with glee as he laughed aloud. Every warrior within the crowd was smiling just as broad, though most were not so rude as to cackle like a maniac. “Don’t worry my lord, not one of these drouks could touch me, at least you came close a few times.” Rorik offered, holding out his hand once more. “Alright, show’s over.” Ogrin stepped in suddenly, “Nights commin fast, an we got ourselves a camp to raid by dawn…pack yer toys an lets go see what our favorite juiceheads are up to.” He commanded, calling the samurai by one of the favorite names the men had for their orange wraps. “First battalion, it’s yer turn.” "That's us, time to move out." Rorik informed the former royal. **** "Hey!" One of the Silver Knights of the Front shouted, spotting something hidden behind a portion of ruble. "You there, don't move!" The soldier roared, rallying three others to rush over to the area. As the men rounded the corner, their footholds allowing them to slide as they came to a stop in the thick sand, each of them were somewhat shocked at what they saw. "I thought the Jinshou at least had a small portion of honor." One of the men proclaimed, turning to the man standing beside him. "Well to use a woman to spy isn't exactly dishonorable, it's just not suggestable considering the risks." The next replied, squatting low in front of the woman to meet her eyes. "What is your name? Why are you here?" He asked, scratching beneath the dark green scarf wrapped about his neck as the sun began to settle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 5:08 pm
Cold to the touch--------------------------------------------------------------Railene held up her hands. "I'm no spy, I swear!" She said, louder than she intended. "My name is Railene, I was travelling when I heard you all training. I came to watch for a bit. But after I saw him..." She pointed a thumb towards Oban, "knocking everyone around, I wanted to stay and see if someone was going to beat him." She started to feel red in the face despite her curse. She knew her story wasn't at all convincing given the circumstances but it was all she could think of. "I'm terribly sorry if I shouldn't have watched." She dipped her head a bit. --------------------------------------------------------------Your love warms my heart, though
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
