BCTheEntity

The Fate of Lucumbro

Akella's not exactly indistinguishable from the crowds either. So, uh, if anybody wants to chat with "that one really famous mercenary", be my guest.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Funky Fistfight Freezers

To those who have chosen to leave, or in Alt's case not begin in the first instance, that's a shame. I'll think about how to handle your character from here, Edd.

@Kafka Komedy Do you plan to make a post with Milo, or can I progress the event without his input?

The Fate of Lucumbro

Right, I've posted as Akella. I'm not sure it's as long as I'd have liked, but it sets the scene well enough, at least.

The Fate of Lucumbro

The typical life of a mercenary necessarily involves a fair amount of battle and bloodshed, and most likely the early death of those who partake of it. Evidently, most aren't willing to do so at all, let alone at the tender age of fifteen, when one has not fully developed and is nominally too weak to defend themselves, let alone fight against others. Not so Akella, who saw it as a way to escape the stress of her life before then- especially if she took jobs necessitating minimal warfare under normal conditions- in a way she had the skills to do well in. Too well, in fact, for by the time she was eighteen, it seemed that wherever she went, people recognised her for her armour, or her hair, or her weaponry, or her prior work, and praised her for it despite its brutal nature. She didn't want praise. Praise meant pressure. Running away had been meant to escape the pressure of her life. Instead, it brought more and more of it, with every job she took seeming to be replaced by two, or three, or four more offers the moment her contract ended, and she couldn't exactly turn them down in good conscience, if it meant innocent people might die for her negligence. And so the cycle continued, until she felt she might break in two. She could not put out infinite effort.

Which led to current events. This time, she had been offered a comparatively simple task which she'd accepted with gusto: escort a noblewoman by the name of Snow, and her five-man retinue of servants, from one city to another, Balfrust to Andore, over a couple of hundred miles of mostly-safe territory. Lady Snow herself was not particularly well-known amongst the commoners along the chosen route, making a raid against her unlikely, and yet in the same stroke she was rich enough to pay Akella well, maybe even allowing the mercenary to take herself off the market for a few weeks whilst she recovered. Until then, the journey involved passing through a few smaller towns and villages to sleep in, most of which the fair Lady complained bitterly about, the conditions of course not being up to her more refined tastes, and Fynn was no different, possibly worse for the minor detour taken to reach it the evening prior. She seemed nice enough to her usual entourage, and perhaps Akella might have made friends with her if they'd met by chance, but alas, one doesn't befriend one's bodyguard. And, well, her attitude toward most of her inferiors was offputting for Akella anyway.

Indeed, preparations had been made to leave as soon as possible, which of course meant a mere hour before noon. Sloppy planning, but not unforgivable considering that the next nearest town was only a three hour ride away. "Just in time for a presumably sub-par luncheon," as the Lady had put it mere minutes ago. Yet even now, Akella was drawing attention from the locals to herself...

'I say, ma'am,' an old woman asked politely as Akella prepared her horse for another day of riding, 'but aren't you that lovely young lady who I've heard about? The, erm, "the girl with hair like fire", or what have you? You certainly look the part...'

'Ah... yes, that would be me,' Akella acquiesced, 'hello, though I wouldn't say it's quite like fire. Too, um, red for that.'

'Well, I suppose fire's a more orangey colour...' the woman said, more to herself than anyone else. 'But, well, I noticed you were leaving, and wanted to offer my home for a night or two's rest, if you ever return here again.'

'Oh... w-well, I wouldn't want to be a bother, uh...'

'Akella!' a voice called to the mercenary, unmistakable as anything other than aristocratic in bearing. 'Are you still accommodating the peasantry, or can we get on with our travels?'

'Uh- just one moment, my Lady!' Akella called back to the oddly white-haired noblewoman, before turning to the old lady once again, her expression already apologetic. 'I-I'm sorry, I need to, uh...'

'Oh, don't you worry, I know what nobles are like, ma'am. Remember, if you're in Fynn again, find me!'

'Ah, thank you, much obliged,' Akella said quickly, hopping on to her steed and riding off to the side of her current hirer. It'd take at least another five minutes to reach the edge of the village even at trotting pace, and every second counts when your employer is a member of the upper class.

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

@DrunkasaurusRex Good post. It bears mentioning, though, that Saptheth isn't actually in chains at the moment. Merely held in place by both arms... which is, I suppose, something I haven't taken into account. I should edit my post to reflect that, huh?

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

As the Golden Serpent was brought into the presence of Eorl the Young, he glanced round at the decoration of the room- surprisingly cultured, in spite of the war trophies hanging from the walls after the purge of Balchoth, and at least warm enough to fend off the chill of the storm weather beyond the keep's walls- and noted that despite the semi-legible tongue in which the guard spoke, there was definite disgust toward Saptheth specifically. This was then mirrored in the far more wieldy Westron tongue spoken by Eorl himself... a very strong man. Almost too much so to function effectively as a soldier, many Easterlings would have said, at least in the more refined styles of combat they utilised compared to the detestably crude hacking of an Endorian... "knight", he seemed to recall. Regardless, Saptheth couldn't help but scoff quietly at the king's latter question.

'I don't suppose your prisoners are often chained to the wall of their prison,' he stated bluntly, tacitly leaving out how he'd been stripped bare to boot. 'Then again, your people slaughtered mine most un... needed-ly, and given my role in your society and the position I held before then, it is only wise to take... prrre-venting actions, especially when none will protest at the resulting... at how the prisoner is treated. In fact, I believe your new realm is built on the very battlefield the Balchothi were driven from. May my kin's ghosts prevent your sleep,' he uttered, reverting to his native Balchothi tongue, a rolling language of many softer syllables and long consonants, much like the deserts his race originated from. Usually, the curse was reserved as a lethal insult to the murderer of one's family members in the course of revenge, but since Saptheth's family- and every other Balchothi- had likely been killed by this man by proxy, it seemed appropriate to wish such dread upon the ruler of Rohan.

'As for why I am here,' Saptheth continued blithely, 'I can only assume you intend for me to become your... I believe the word you use is "dog". A hired minion, beaten into submission until he does his master's bidding.' The disgust in his tone is palpable, clearly highlighting his impression of the idea. 'Understand that this will not happen, and that bringing me to you at all was... unwise.' The serpent glances round the room again, this time at the many guards aiming their crossbows in his direction.

'I could kill you, if I wanted, Eorl leader of Rohan,' he proclaims. 'It would not be difficult, despite the best efforts of the men to either side of me. For all the crossbowmen you have here, I would surely die, but from this distance, I could readily hurl my spear through your chest and your throne alike before the first bolt struck me. Indeed, I ought to do so to avenge my race and cripple your kingdom; the fact that I do not is a sign of my... forgiving? Forgiving. Yessss.' He made a light hissing noise to punctuate his final word, staring directly toward the king as a form of intimidation. In truth, the real reason he did not slay the king at that moment was twofold: it would be counterproductive after being snatched from the jaws of death, and he did not in fact believe his own declaration of ability, or at least did not think it would hold true enough to follow through on, especially as both soldiers re-tightened their grips on his forearms. He had tempted fate once already, and was only given a reprieve by the same measure; tempting it yet again would surely give it cause to retract all assistance, with the relevant consequences. No, if he ever did plan to kill Eorl, it would have to be at the moment of least risk, both to his health and to his chance of failure. For now, he could only wait to see how the man responded to his words.

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

Oh wow, this is progressing fast now. I ought to start writing up a response to Eorl, then.

The Fate of Lucumbro

@POOHEAD189 Good to see you, but you are... slightly late to the party. Considering how Bishop's sheet creation is going so far, however...

The Fate of Lucumbro

@Footman@Kafka Komedy Yeah, I should probably go about describing Akella's hometown too. I'd assume that's a good plan, anyway, even if it never becomes relevant. Then again, what I've described so far seems to convey the general feel of the town well enough... I'll sleep on it.

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

Right, work has called me in to cover a night-shift, so my post will be tomorrow; to answer the question, @Sigurd, it'll be one post but each of you shall be addressed in turn.

I apologise profusely for the slow pace thus far, and thank you all again for sticking with me, I'll get the next post up tomorow and we can carry on.

Again, thank you.

@Jbcool

>tomorrow
>tomorrow was two days ago