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    1. Drunken Conquistador 9 yrs ago

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NRP, Star Wars, Dragon Age and Warhammer (Fantasy and 40k) enthusiast. Feel free to PM me about any related RPs

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I would be up for part of the heavy weapons team or vox operator.
I'm up for it
on second thought, I lack the time for this, sorry
Gabriel made one last sweep over the battlefield, upon confirming that all the attackers had been dealt with by the party -and what party! If only he had people like these during his days as the Thorn Captain- the former mercenary Captain consciously released his hold over the Sybarite Eagle, which then promptly descended to feast on the slain, and put away his bow. Making his way back down from his vantage point and into the ruined courtyard where Megathocles had obediently waited during the entire skirmish.

The warhorse didn't need any prompt, mental or otherwise, to come to his master when he heard his descent. Though Gabriel could feel the slight frustration through their bond. Megathocles had been brought when Gabriel had been made Thorn Captain. That meant; for the most part, good food and privileged attention from stableboys and the company's veterinarians. Gabriel himself wasn't ignorant when it came to taking care of his horse, but it had been a long time ever since he last had to actually bother himself with the gritty details of the act. It would be a learning experience for both of them.

"We must leave at once." Agabyzus warned as Gabriel spurred his horse out of the ruins and into the decayed streets.

"No need to tell me that. But we can't rush out without a plan, there could be more waiting for us at the city's approaches."

"Then come up with a plan. Act like the Captain you are and bring our fellow Legionnaires to safety."

"We need scouts, fast and light. Alessandra can help but not only her. Information too, we need to drain what we can from the prisoners without wasting time."

"It's a start..." Agabyzus conceded, remaining silent for the rest of the short trip.

Gabriel eventually reached his fellow Legionnaires, no doubt already aware of his arrival by the thundering of his horse's hooves. Bringing his horse to a sudden stop, he called out to the others:

"We have been compromised! Make ready to break camp and move soon! Loot the bodies and make sure to eat something. It's going to be a long trip!"

With that he turned to his nearest companion, the priest-"Salvio"- and asked, ignoring the growing taste of blood and guts in his mouth, seeping through his bond due to the proximity to Alessandra feasting on a particular carcass.

"Salvio, my good man, have we captured any of them alive? Do we know anything about these attackers?"
@Sierra

Still here.
Gabriel Digani


It was a testament of how tired Gabriel still felt that he fell asleep so fast in a place such as Silverwick while still surrounded by complete strangers. For all that they were fellow Chosen, he was still far from trusting them that far. At least with most mercenaries could be relied upon as long as you paid them. Or in his particular case, stayed around him long enough to have their will influenced by him.

"I have always sought to foster caution into you. And I see that I have succeeded. But now there's not turning back now. You all will have to learn to work together. In the beginning at least, I do realize some of our goals may not align in the future but we can't afford to worry about the future before securing the present."

Gabriel didn't bother arguing. Stretching the last remnants of sleep away as he left his consciousness roam outwards to locate Agathocles and Alessandra, taking care to ignore the whirling thoughts of his fellow Chosen. Or any other human minds for that matter. It was quick, after trotting away from the campfire last night, Agathocles had taken shelter beneath a sturdy half-ruined

Wait. Other humans?

"We've been discovered! Hurry to your arms.".

All around them, realization dawned upon the other Chosen as the enemy approached. To Gabriel's experienced ears, the sound of rushing horsemen was unmistakable. And so he ran, even as others shouted orders and hurried to stand their ground, Gabriel sped towards his horse slightly deeper in the ruins even as he also saw the incoming enemy from the eyes of Alessandra, now properly awakened and circling the ruins.

Gabriel jumped into the ruined courtyard of the ruined mansion his horse had spent the night, ordering it to come to him as he did so. A plan already forming in his mind as he took his longbow and quiver from its place in the saddle bags and half ran through the debris strewn ground, hopping half crumbled stairs to the upper levels of the mansion. Once he reached the rooftops, the former Torn Captain took a second to watch the battlefield from his vantage point, both through his own eyes and through that of his pet eagle.

"Call upon the winds, we can snipe them one by one from here."

He felt the sudden surge of power flowing through him as a response. His first target was the melee around the lone woman, he didn't recall introductions and at this point it didn't matter. Drawing his bow with speed and efficiency born out of years of practice and using his powers to boost him aim, he loosed an arrow that hit deep into the neck of one of the soldiers at the back, waiting for a chance to join the lopsided duel. By the time the footman fell to the ground, Gabriel had already nocked another missile, this one planting itself at the back of a knee as Alessandra swooped down directly into the fight to peck at the eyes of a man that was trying to sneak upon the lone warrior.
Silverwick

The dwarf brushed off Salvio’s request, and the priest was wrong-footed for a moment, but as he glanced around the camp, he saw that many of the group were settling down to rest and his own weariness suddenly flooded into his limbs. It had been a long journey, and he had taken little time to rest, the angel spurring him ever onwards towards Silverwick. The armour he wore suddenly feeling like lead, Salvio took a seat close to the fire, leaning back against a pile of crumbled masonry.

His peace was not long lived, as he heard footsteps approaching the fire. One hand instinctively flying to grip the well-worn handle of one of his hammers, his other hand wrapped around the amulet around his neck. He felt the spirit rush through him, and at once the voice spoke, almost as if it had been waiting too do so.

“Another lost soul, Salvio. You must gain their trust.”

Grimacing against the complaints from his weary joints, Salvio rose to his feet, releasing his grip on both the hammer and the amulet as a figure stepped into the light of the crackling fire. Tall and dark haired, the man had the look of a mercenary, and Salvio couldn’t help but admire the powerful warhorse that he led over the cracked stone remains of Silverwicks once broad and imposing streets. He raised a hand to catch the other man’s attention, calling out over the fire.

“Greetings traveller, how goes your journey?”

“As far as can be expected when one comes to these parts.” Gabriel replied, accessing the other man. “Agatho D’amere, at your service.” He gave a short bow. “And you are?”

Salvio nodded his head in greeting.

“Well, met friend. Salvio Vitelli.”

He gestured towards the handful of other figures gathered around the fire, shrugging apologetically.

“I’m afraid I can’t introduce the others, for I have only just arrived myself. But can I assume that we are both here for the same reason?”

“You mean the greatest terrors of the ancient world drawing us all here?” Gabriel chuckled. “Either that or you sir have some odd ideas about places to visit.”

Salvio managed to hide the stab he felt in his heart at the mention of the evil in which he had surrounded himself as he gestured for Agatho to come closer to the fire and sank back to his own seat by the fire.

“The former I assure you. That's a fine beast you have, how do you earn your coin, sir?”

Gabriel settled by the fire, his horse calmly trotting off somewhere else.
“As of now I’m not earning any coin. But I used to fight in the Free Cities. No shortage of demand for those willing to shed blood. And you, sir?”

“I thought you had the look of a soldier. I have no doubt you have many great tales of your time there! I am afraid I am nothing as grand, although I too have shed my share of blood. I take only what coin the gods provide.”

Gabriel laughed. Act or not, the idea of a Legionnaire taking in with a priest was a funny one. But then again, besides the armor, the old man’s clothing kinda looked like what Gabriel had seen among the clergy of some Free Cities. Not that it mattered much anymore. At least not for the moment,

“Which Legionnaire decided to bring a Priest into our wicked little band?”

Salvio hesitated for a brief moment, hand going to grip the amulet around his neck. The voice within all but spoke through him, as he echoed the words.

“Ravan the Unsacred. Still chasing your paradise, Agabyzus?”

“Of course!” Gabriel laughed, voice growing strangely smoother and accented. “Old habits die hard for both of us, it seems.”

Gabriel turned to look upwards, growing distant for a moment. Before finally speaking, voice back to normal.

“How did a man of the cloth end up tangled in this anyways?” He asked, amusement clear in his expression.

“The same way we all did, I fear. We started hearing voices in our head, and thought it was a good idea to listen.”
@Drunken Conquistador@MegaOscarPwn
We ever doing that thing?


Since MOP had to quit i figure we could just write about reaching Silverwick
The Count I



Oziyltomor Simerk knelt silently before the altar, appreciating the heavy incense of smoke hanging in the air as he took the moment to empty his mind. He was not a Count, nor an officer of the Heavenly Imperial Army. At least not now. Now he was but a pious man observing his duties to his ancestors, as any other Minga worth his braid.

With easy movements he took the bowl of fermented horse milk and placed it upon the gilded altar, taking care not to spill the liquid upon the blue silk covering its top. Mouthing silent prayers as he placed a second bowl, this time filled with dried grain, besides the milk. His father's photograph watched imperiously from the center of the headboard, surrounded by photos and engravings of his mother and siblings. This was his own personal altar, confined to his own quarters and solely for his own use. But even then, the former Lady Simerk had raged when she learned that a concubine was being honored besides her husband in her own (former) bedroom. But there was nothing she could do. If the Count wanted to honor his parents then there was nothing to stop him from doing so. And if said mother happened to be a concubine instead of his own lawful wife, then maybe it was the Lady's own fault for not being cunning enough to get her own children to inherit the title despite all the advantages she got over the competition.

Sure, Oziyltomor's ascension wasn't entirely her fault. After all, it was only one of her sons that fell prey to foreign degeneracy. But the Count had enjoyed taunting his father's wife whenever she got too uppity for his tastes. Just a little payback for all that she had made him suffer through during his childhood. He was actually kinda disappointed she had chosen to return to her brother's estates in the west. Her growing despair had been so very pleasant to watch. But it was for the best, one less opponent to challenge his authority within his own lands. He had enough enemies outside of it as it were. Populist scum giving the masses ideas about rising against the rightful order of affairs while bending over to greedy foreigners, ossified old pricks claiming to have the Empire's best interest of the Empire in mind even as they led it to ruin and a sect of murderers hellbent on destroying the very identity of the nation to honor a cankerous, degenerate ideology from beyond the seas.

He shook the thoughts away. This was not the time for that. Oziyltomor returned to paying his respects, following protocol to the letter as he made his prayers and offered tribute to the altar. All said, that exercise took the better part of the morning and by the time the Count was done with his spiritual duties it was already time to meet his subordinates.

Sparing one last glance towards his mother's photograph, the Count strode off the small tent, putting on his coat and cap as he did so. The guards deployed outside saluted as the Count passed through them, heading for the command tent. The officers inside saluted in unison when Ozilytomor entered, taking his place along the central table holding the map.

"We've received more reports of Nationalist advances, Your Excellency." Colonel Tartu Zamir started. "Another couple of forts was overrun during the night. The Northern Army continues to prove itself unable to stand up to the rebels."

"As expected." The Count grumbled. "How far along has our vanguard advanced?"

"The advanced elements of the Windrider and Stormrider divisions have gotten a few miles from the river but the rebel forces were too strong to risk a confrontation." Zamir replied, pointing to the map. "The bulk of their strength is still out of position to risk a full engagement."

"Their orders remain the same." The Count spoke, toying with one of the army markers. "Attacking now would only give them the chance to fight our forces piecemeal. Make sure to remind them of that." He placed the marker back in position. "What about our aircraft? Are they in position?"

"We've had some hold ups with transport, Your Excellency." Another officer spoke up hesitantly, averting the Count's eyes. "But it has been dealt with. We should be launching the first flights in a few days...and the local airfields should be getting the new anti-aircraft artillery by the end of the week." She added, unprompted.

The Count snorted at that. Of course they would be getting it. The bastard of a Countess ruling this fief had been specially obstructive when it came to allowing the White Bird Host basing and marching rights. Even as the rebel forces approached from the north almost without opposition, Count Simerk had been forced to bribe that beady-eyed beast in bullion and materiel. The worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it. The Empire needed all its forces focused on the greater threat. But if she dared to withhold her own troops and let better men bleed in her own lands, there would be hell to pay.

"Have the Countess' troops started moving?" He asked, already dreading the answer.

"She claims that since her best troops marched with the Northern Army, Your Excellency. She has been stretched thin to protect her fief and that her new recruits aren't ready yet. Likewise, she continues to request more supplies" Zamir replied, frustrated tone making clear his opinion on the matter, passing his Lord a bundle of communiques. "That said, her conscripts have joined Windrider and Stormrider in the planned secondary and tertiary lines and have started entrenching work."

Of course, expecting something different had been too much to hope for. Still, the Count could accept that these excuses weren't entirely unfounded. And keeping green troops out of the way of the rebel hammer, while preparing their fallback positions would allow better trained units to focus on weathering the rebel storm and blunting their attack. Still, the Countess was holding out on them. Oziyltomor was sure of it. Woe to her, if so. These were her lands, and if the rebels forced them out of Deisal entirely, then the Count would make sure that blame would fall on the right shoulders.

"Any reports from the County that needs my immediate attention?" Oziyltomor asked as he pocketed the communiques.

"Nose so far, Your Excellency. Everything going as planned."

"And what about the 19th?" Oziyltomor prompted.

"No trouble either, Your Excellency. It seems the presence of soldiers, even the green recruits of the 19th, has been enough to dissuade our local allies from harassing our supply lines." Zamir declared proudly.

The Count nodded, running a mental checklist on other pressing issues that had yet to be discussed. That would be their last chance at doing so before moving closer to the frontlines and taking up the challenge of stopping the rebel advance and salvaging what was left of the Northern Army.
Noice, PMs or just some kind of collab maker?


PMs, Google docs, discord. Whatever you prefer.

Of course, we will need Isotope too. Unless you wanna Skip ahead and have our guys interact already in the city
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