Ekreture
Member
- Last Seen: 4 mos ago
- Joined: 7 yrs ago
- Posts: 209 (0.08 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- Ekreture 7 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
@The Spectre Sounds good! Make sure to ask any questions you might have on here or a PM :)
@Famotill I actually have a few ideas if you want to PM me or if you'd prefer I set up a discord
@Famotill I actually have a few ideas if you want to PM me or if you'd prefer I set up a discord
@FiroIV As I stated above, I'm a lot more interested in the specific characters and the dynamics between them than I am in making general rules. As far as theme goes, no matter what sort of character exists, I want their morals to be questioned constantly. In general I'd rather avoid someone as powerful as a say Superman or Doctor Manhattan, but if there's an interesting idea behind, I'm open to suggestion.
@FiroIV@Famotill As far as the way people got their powers, I was thinking about it, and while I'm open to a wide range, a central plot, and one of the reasons Esperanza has so many people with powers, is a series of tests with radiative therapy during WWII and the Cold War, which caused mutagens to be released into the Esperanza area.
@FiroIV@Famotill As far as the way people got their powers, I was thinking about it, and while I'm open to a wide range, a central plot, and one of the reasons Esperanza has so many people with powers, is a series of tests with radiative therapy during WWII and the Cold War, which caused mutagens to be released into the Esperanza area.
@Famotill No that works great. Do you have any ideas as to how they would have gotten their powers? I've been coming up with new information on the city of Esperanza as well if you needed any information on that.
@Famotill It's a mix, and I'd rather hear specific ideas and approve them on a case to case basis. For me, it's a lot less about the powers, and more how they're manifested in the character. Do I generally want to see a character who can level a city by raising their hand? Not really. That said, if there's a really interesting idea, or if it works with the general framework of the other characters, I'd be open. Does that help? I mostly just want people to get creative with their characters without me having to give them arbitrary limitations.
On the Pacific Coast of California, right between San Francisco and Los Angeles, with the city's downtown resting around Morro Bay, lies the bustling metropolis of Esperanza. Home to nine hundred thousand people and a metropolitan population of nearly four million, the Central California city boasts three universities (including one ivy league), a strong nightlife, a growing music scene, the proud Esperanza Gold Diggers, and world famous sea food.
This is, of course, in addition to the growing ghettos, organized crime, and a corrupt city government led by mayor Nicholas Hoffman, who's currently in the midst of a campaign for governor, one which he's expected to win. And, as the services provided by society to deal with these problems are clearly not doing their jobs, it is up to the citizens themselves to find a way to deal with them.
In this superhero RP, in addition to delving into the lives and struggles of every hero and every villain in the story, I want to make the city of Esperanza come to life. While I'm hoping to possibly make a map at some point, at the very least I will discuss districts and areas of the city, introduce local personalities, and talk about city history.
Because of this, I don't want every character to be a superhero or a villain; I want nurses, doctors, professors, newscasters, anything to help make the city feel more real. In addition, I don't want characters to simply be classified as heroes and villains; I want to see the lines of morality blurred, the concepts of good and evil to be consistently questioned and appraised.
If you're at all interested, please leave any comments or questions. I'm also looking for GMs if you're more interested in that.
Sraid, Kingdom of Talnoc
Beyond the Storm's End
As she placed her hand on the ruins of the house she once called home, Nadurtha felt a strange emptiness, a hole inside her others would fill with grief. She moved her caloused hands over the rubble, afraid to dig under it for fear of what memories may lay underneath. Behind her were two of the High King's men, her marines, standing at attention with shovels in hand. The admiral could smell a wetness lingering in the air, a tepid moisture tossed with a pinch of dust and wood. She stood up, and faced her men, giving them a nod, and they started digging.
"Nad-" A wooden basket clattered onto the floor. Looking up, Nadurtha saw the face of a distant memory, pale as a ghost and ghaunt from a lack of nourishment. Minnira's dress was speckled in mud, her eyes envious of the Admiral's sharp blue tunic and clean trousers. Were it not for the clouds in the sky, one could swear to see the welling of tears in both the womens' eyes.
The Girl
A bright and sunny sky hung high over the village of Sraid, and a young Nadurtha, only a child, ran to the main cluster of buildings in the village center, a deformed doll made of straw in her hand. Her mother insisted that she play with the girls of the village today, sewing together a doll and a dress for her so she could fit in. She didn't much understand her mother's reasoning, but the gifts made her happy, even if she did trip on her new dress, with spring soils splattered across the fabric by the time she came upon Minnira and the others.
"Hey Minni!" The children looked up from their toys to look up at the black-haired little girl who stood before them. The young Minnira grew bright red in her face, not responding at her addressal.
One of the other girls spoke up. "Why's your dress all dirty, Nadurtha?" Her face was filled with disgust, clutching her doll close to her chest to keep it away from the mongrel. Nadurtha clutched at the fabric embarrasedly.
"Oh...I tripped...sorry..." The girls started giggling as the blonde haired child looked away. Then they began to notice the doll in Nadurtha's hand.
"Ewww, what is that?" Another girl spoke up, disgusted by Nadurtha's choice in toys, and she instinctively hid it behind her back.
Nadurtha took a step back, sweating dripping down her face and tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She briefly locked eyes with Minnira, who shamefully and quickly broke her gaze, and the raven-haired girl darted away, followed by a cacophany of laughter.
The admiral swallowed hard. "Minni..." The ghost entered her face as well. "Hello." They stood awkwardly while words neither wished to say hung heavy in the air. Finally, Minnira broke the silence with her fingers running through her blond hair.
"I'm...sorry about your parents' house." Nadurtha nodded her thanks. The marines stood up from their work and faced the blond woman, but Nadurtha waved them off.
"I'm sorry about yours," the admiral replied, gesturing to the distant houses, fallen and flooded. "The rest of the king's men should arrive soon enough, help rebuild...how are your accomidations?" she asked, crossing her arms as the pale of her face slowly turned to a bright red. Some men who arrived ahead of Nadurtha had set up tents to house the villagers temporarily, the village having been wrecked, nearly at the eye of the storm.
Minnira averted her gaze, looking down at the wooden basket at her feet. "It's...we'll get by. Thank you." She looked up at the blade that hung on the admiral's hip, examining the wear and tear of the leather sheathe, while Nadurtha studied the lines of the villager's face. Sweat built up on her hands, and she chenched them into a fist.
"They had already passed," Minnira said, breaking the silence while she looked to the wreckage of the admiral's home.
"Hm?"
"Your...your parents. They had already passed, before the storm." Nadurtha nodded, grateful she didn't have to ask the question which had plagued her mind, and she turned, briskly walking away. "Wait...Nadi," the blonde woman called after her, but she didn't listen.
She went into the woods, waving off the marines who came after her, and went to where the dead of the village were layed to rest. Every family had a building where the urns of the dead were placed in order of the date of their death. A few new urns had been placed in many of these buildings, but Nadurtha ran to the one marked "Baile". Inside were the urns of her ancestors. the floor and walls dusty and the room dank. Finding the newest row of the deceased, she first looked to the urns of her parents. In between theirs and the ashes of her more distant ancestors lay a special urn, unique to those who died in combat. Kneeling down and rubbing of the dust, she saw the name of her brother: CURAD.
The Warrior
The child had changed out of the dress, now donning her usual trousers. She was standing by the creek, skipping stones on the babbling water while tears still leaked from her eyes, when suddenly she heard a voice behind her.
"You're getting better, kiddo," it spoke, the gruff voice immediately recognizable to the young girl. She flipped her head around and her face lit up, as she looked at the large figure of her older brother, whose heavy boots were stomping through the leaves of the forest floor.
"Curad!" She shouted. Nadurtha dropped her stones and rushed into his arms, and he squeezed her tight before he russled her hair.
"Haha, how's it going sis?" the Taisafir asked as he walked to the stream and began skipping stones with his younger sister. She didn't reply, and he could tell there was something off. "You know," he began, "You can skip them a lot farther if you didn't toss them so...angrily." She was still silent. "You want to talk about it?"
After a few moments of silence, the girl spoke up. "The girls...they were picking on me again."
"Ah," he responded, and he pursed his lips. He knew that she didn't get along with the other girls in the village, but their mother wanted her to wear dresses and such. Her doll was left laying on the floor, torn up in anger, and Curad frowned. "You want me to try talking to Ma?"
"No, she won't listen." They kept skipping stones in silence, before Nadurtha decided to speak up again. "Do you ever get picked on?" She asked her brother.
He chuckled, being reminded that his sister was only a child. It's hard to tell sometimes; she speaks with such authority and maturity, sometimes even he's been impressed by the girl's wisdom. "Nah, people tend to shut up when you've got a blade and you know how to use it," he responded, and he sat down, his wrists on his knees while the waters rushed by. Nadurtha sat next to him, and they watched the creek together.
"I wish I knew how to fight," she admitted, looking to the mercenary. He looked at her and smirked.
"You want me to teach you how?"
That night, while Nadurtha feigned slumber as children often do. Curad approached his father, busy carving a chunk of wood at a table under candlelight, and placed a bag of coins in front of him before taking a seat. The farmer looked at it and then to his son.
"What is this?"
"I was thinking you could fix up the fence...maybe even buy a new Karkadann." He smiled at his father, who held his frown tight as he returned to his carving.
"How'd you get the money?" the farmer asked, an eyebrow raised inquisitively but still not meeting his son's gaze. Curad groaned in frustration and ran his hand through his beard.
"You know how I got the money, Da." The two sat in silence a moment, the older man's carving quickening in its rhythm. Standing up and turning from the table, the mercenary leaned against the house's wall and smirked in his dissatisfaction. "Most fathers would be proud to have a son who's a Taisafir." His father only grunted in response, and the young man sighed and went to find his bed. Nadurtha, still awake, felt a strange feeling well up inside her. Usually Curad would think of something to say, some clever retort to get the old man angry. Now, he's quiet. Hopeless. She preferred it when they fought.
She felt bad that she preferred it when they fought.
A single tear fell onto the masoleum floor, stirring up the dust, and the admiral rose to her feet. It's been so long, she thought, why do I care that it's been so long?
She dusted herself off, exiting the resting place of her family, and sat on the moist and dewey grass of the burial ground. I should go back soon, the men'll be getting worried. Suddenly, she heard a pained bleating in the distance.
The Village
The week before, the Baile boy had been brought into the village with his body on a stretcher. There was an air of ceremony to it, one of the first men in a very long time to have died in the name of Serenity. His mother was the first to see the procession, and broke down in front of the whole village, weeping and cursing and collapsing and the such. With the impending war against Freishann, mothers should really be more prepared...or at least retain some composure, for the sake of everyone. Her hysteria was apparantly quite a scene, Curad's father having to hold his wife back. He didn't cry. What kind of father wouldn't cry at the death of their own son? He should at least be proud, although everyone knows he and the boy never got along.
His teenage sister, Nadurtha, had been riding the family's Karkadann when he came in, quite unladylike. She and him were quite close, so she didn't handle the news very well when she finally came back. Nobody had seen her for a week, but that wasn't unusual; she was always a bit of an outcast. The only other person in the village she was close to, Minnira, eventually sought her out.
Nadurtha sat alone by the creek. The crying had stopped yesterday, but she didn't feel any better. Sitting on a fallen log, her Karkadann softly nuzzled her hand while she mindlessly stroked its face, with Curad's sword laying in her lap. Her parents didn't want her to have the blade, saying it was dangerous, that they didn't want it to tempt her into following in his footsteps. There were a lot of things she hid from them. She noticed Minnira coming to sit next to her, putting a blanket under her dress as she did so, but she didn't care to look at her. They sat for a while, Minnira staring at Nadurtha while the darker haired girl stared at the creek.
"Why are you here?" Nadurtha eventually asked. The blonde sighed and rolled her eyes, turning and looking at the creek that Nadurtha seemed to find so interesting.
"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, Nadi," Minnira responded as she softly kicked the pebbles of the riverbank, listening intently to hear them crumble under her foot. Nadurtha's petting began to slow, and her Karkadann moved away from her, with her petting hand now resting on the blade's sheath.
Nadurtha bit her lip, and felt a small frustration build inside her. "Minni, I didn't know you cared."
"Don't talk like that!" Minnira immediately felt bad at her outlash, and moved her hand over to touch Nadurtha's arm. "Nadi, I-"
"Don't touch me," Nadurtha responded, instinctively pulling away. Minnira moved back to her seat, and for a while they sat, listening to the babbling creek. An adolescent silence sat between them, an ocean of hormones neither of them wished to, or were allowed to, express. Minnira's face grew red as she fiddled with her dress, building up the courage to say what came next.
"I...Nadi I...I am to be wed." One could swear they heard the pit open up in Nadurtha's stomach.
Immediately, a swarm of thoughts began racing through her head. Why? Who? Does she love him? Does she love-who does she love? A panic ensued in her mind. She wanted to scream. She wanted to jump into the creek and swim away. She wanted to plunge the sword in her lap into her own heart and force Minnira to watch her die, so that she would know how it felt. How it felt to have your heart broken. How it felt to have your world destroyed. How it felt to be her.
"Oh," was all she said.
Minnira thought of the words she should say, but being so young, thought of nothing. Tears welling in her eyes, she picked up her blanket and walked away.
The black haired girl's home was broken a week ago. Her heart was broken just now. She began to sob, now feeling worse than before. The Karkadann began to nuzzle her hand again.
It was a Karkadann that had been making the noise. Probably got lost in the storm, was hunting for food when it got trapped under a falling log. This was why Olirians burned their dead instead of burying them. Nadurtha approached it slowly.
"Shhh, shh, it's alright now," she said soothingly, knees bent and one hand outreached. The beast began screeching louder, but the admiral knew how to handle them. As she stepped on the branches which riddled the forest floor, one of the broken pieces of wood reached up and cut her leg, but Nadurtha had to ignore the pain. She needed to keep the creature calm. "Now what'd you get yourself into?" she asked, reaching out her hand to feel its muzzle. It began to remember the feeling of human kindness, and rested on her hand.
For a bit, the admiral just stood there petting the creature, letting it build up some trust for her, even pulling out a piece of dried meat for it to eat. After a while, she asked, "Alright, you ready?" Though she obviously got no response, the Karkadann seemed to know what came next as Nadurtah moved behind it and lifted the log off its back legs.
Freedom
It was at the dead of night, and Nadurtha was behind her home with her Karkadann, Curad's sword, and a back of supplies she was tying to its saddle. Her hair was cut short, and as usual she wore no makeup, looking much like a man in the moonlight which illuminated the arms shown by her rolled up sleeves. As she readied to depart, she heard some familiar footsteps move behind her carrying a lantern.
"Nadi? What are you doing out this late?" Minnira whispered, her nightgown a stark contrast from the beauty of her usual dresses. She was really quite beautiful; it was no wonder that the richest man in the village asked to make her his bride. She didn't need to wait for Nadurtha's response when none came; the Karkadann and cut hair said it all. "Are you...where do you...are you leaving?" Finally, the girl stopped prepping the saddle, but still didn't turn around.
"They need sailors. I'm headed for Minhu."
"What? That's crazy, Nadurtha!" Minnira exclaimed, her voice growing louder, much to Nadurtha irritation. She turned around to face the blonde girl.
"It's Nadur now."
"So what, you think you're just going to masquerade as a man and live on a ship full of them? Have you even set foot on a boat before? Do you-" Nadurtha moved forward and placed her hand's on Minnira's shoulders.
"Minni, you have to be quiet." She only grew louder.
"What? I will not-"
"Minni."
"Don't-" she was finally silenced when she felt Nadurtha's lips on her own, the black-haired girl's hands clutching tight to her hips. Her eyes were wide with shock, and tried to push Nadurtha off of her, her lamp having fallen on the floor, but soon trepidation melted away, and for a while, the two kissed under the moonlight, years of built up tension now being soothed in the other girl's arms. Eventually, Nadurtha pulled away, and softly let her go, walked to the Karkadann.
"Nadi, wait, please-" but her mind had been set, and the mad-eyed girl of Sraid hopped atop her mount and rode off into the distance. Minnira fell to the ground in tears. Now she knew how it felt.
The admiral entered the village square with her marines helping to carry the injured Karkadann. She saw Minnira standing with her children, watching the procession of soldiers, nodded to them, and kept on keeping on. Like a galloping Karkadann. Like a bird in flight. Like a fish in a creek, tangled up in the blue water, swimming out to sea.
Unna Forest, Kingdom of Adhmadh
Rains fell hard and winds blew rough as the forces of the sea pummeled the land, but the Yara clung tight to a bending tree, for he had weathered storms before. His red body stood out in the dense moisture that had constricted his forest, while his large, suctioned hand reached up for the only fruit this tree had left to pluck, when through the howling wind and rain he could hear the shallow breathing and the beating heart of a human child.
Ignore it, he thought, it is a trap. He thought nothing of it as he clasped onto the dampened fruit, and, after picking his meal, he scuttled down the tree to the forest floor. He heard the heartbeat quicken and the child grunt as he struggled to survive. The child was alone and trapped, and out of sheer curiosity, he hid himself from human gaze, making his way towards where he could sense it was.
The child was stuck under a fallen log. Nearby lay the corpse of a young lamb, who the child was likely there trying to rescue. By now it had fallen unconscious, but the Yara could feel its heart beat, and moved closer, examining the young of his adversaries. Its hair was a sandy blond, and seemed to be a male. It looked like The Boy.
---
Mother gave him a grass-sewn sack of nuts and berries picked from the forest's highest trees, and slung it around Wadju's back, much like his younger brother was clasped tight to her own. "You will be safe, Wadjunei?" It was a hot and sunny day in the forest of the Unna, but the hollow base of the Sognu tree kept the young Yara sheltered from the sun's rays.
The child chucked with mischief illuminating his black eyes, the wide grin against his red, rounded head making him look like a tomato. "Yes, Annei, do not be worried, I shall be back before the sun has set." He moved for the tree's entrance when Mother held him back. "Wait, Wadju, your father is going with you."
Wadju stood shocked, as the elderly chief fell from the treetop and stood before his son. "Come, Agnei, we should move." Knowing he could not protest, Wadju and The Chief walked through the forest side by side towards the birch where he would meet The Boy. Walking silently until the Unna village had fallen behind them, Wadju spoke up.
"I do not understand why you are coming with me." The Chief remained silent to the ears of a child, but his posture and stoic features would have spoken clearly to someone of greater experience. "Could you not hear me Adnei? I usually meet him alone." Still without response, Wadju fixed his gaze to the forest ahead, frustration stirring inside of him, when the Chief spoke up.
"The Guoda have been attacked by humans."
---
Excited flames danced along the walls of the Sognu to a song that had been long forgotten. The Yara squatted near the fire with a stick in his hand as he carefully placed a root into the clay pot that was erected above it, when the human child coughed into consciousness. The Yara remained silent. The child sat up, and began to take note of his surroundings, when he saw the fiend sat before him.
"Y-you are the Old Yara of Unna Forest!" He remained silent to the child's realization, stirring the pot while carefully avoiding the flames licking its underside. The human sat bewildered, eyes affixed to the red legend while the storm still raged outside. "You know...I wouldn't taste good!" At this, the Yara briefly looked at the young boy, confused, before turning turning back to the pot. "I know you like to eat children...but I wouldn't taste good. Like...dirt, or-or vegetables!"
Herbs fell from the Yara's hand into the pot. One missed its marker, and fell into the fire below, filling the hollow with a bitter scent. The child layed back, dissatisfied with his captor's response, and looked at the walls of the tree. They were adorned with markings and artwork, going up as far as he could see. "Did you make these paintings?"
"No," The Yara responded. The child was bewildered by the response, as well as the deep croak emitted from the small creature's body, and turned to face him.
"Are there others like you here?" The child asked inquisitively.
"No." Sniffing the smoke of the pot, the Yara was satisfied, and took it by the handle, walking over to the human. As the red being grew closer, fear welled up in the human boy's eyes, when the pot was handed to him. "Eat," said the Yara, but the child held it hesitantly. Gesturing for him to drink it, the child slowly brought it to his face, taking a sip, when he grimaced at the acrid taste. "You must eat. You are getting sick." The child began consuming the concoction, but his face remained unchanged.
---
Wadju approached the Boy by the birch they always meet at, and unslung the sack from his back. "Hey Fean!" The boy responded with a wide grin, and sat up from the ground.
"Wadju!" He ran to his friend, and took the sack, placing it by the crate of eggs he brought with him, before he picked up a couple of wooden swords. "Look at what my Father got for us!" the little prince exclaimed, handing the young Yara one of the oaken blades. Wadju took it, and felt it in his hands. They had played with wooden swords before, which usually ended up broken by the day's end, but this time he felt the sword had a different weight. "What's wrong?" asked Fean.
"Nothing...my father is watching us today...I do not think we can play as long." Fean nodded, somewhat saddened, the knowledge that the Chief of the Unna was somewhere watching, hidden from human sight somewhat dampening their day. "He says some Yara Ma got hurt by humans, so he is being careful."
"Oh." An awkward silence hung in the air. "I wouldn't hurt you."
"I know!" The two of them sat down with the swords placed on the ground, and sat looking at the human settlement that stood beyond; Fean's home, and the place Wadju had been forbidden to go. As a strange understanding of things crept up on them, the Boy stood up and stopped it.
"Bet you can't catch me!" he shouted before bolting off towards the medow at the edge of the woods, and Wadju laughed as he chased after him.
---
The clay pot was half empty on the floor, the child having eaten as much as he was going to, and the Yara was sat watching the downpour outside, nibbling at the fruit he had picked. As the young human stood up, his fingers touching a Yara painting, Old Yara shouted, "Do not touch that!" The child pulled his hand back fearfully, shocked at the Yara's senses, and sat back down.
"You don't have to be so grumpy!" he retorted, to which the Yara only grunted. The sandy-haired child began tearing up, and lay down facing the tree wall. The Yara sighed.
"You should not say I eat children. It is not true." The human turned his body to face him, confused.
"But my papa said-"
"Your father is wrong." The child was silent, realizing he had been mean.
"Did you see a lamb when you found me? She's why I came into the forest," the child asked, looking at the Yara's back.
"She-" He stopped himself. "No. I did not see a lamb." They were silent for a little while longer, the Yara finishing his fruit and throwing the peel to the storm.
"My name is Albar," the child said. "What is yours?" The Yara sat quiet for a moment, contemplating how to respond.
"Wadju," He said. "I am Wadju."
Qagan Village, Coast of Khasibuil
The midday sun broke through the ceiling of the village's tavern, illuminating the scars on Bahar's face. The rustic building was largely empty, bereft of life besides the innkeep, the captain, and a small cat purring in a corner, when the floorboards began to creak, new footsteps entering through the doorway. Four men walked in, bearing weapons and gloom faces. Bahar heard them approaching, but did not look up from his drink as they encircled him.
As one of the men, whose beard was long as his teeth were green, knelt onto the counter to meet the sailor's gaze, the innkeep spoke up. "Hey...don't...I don't want trouble in here!" he demanded weakly.
"Shove it, peasant!" one of the men replied, and the innkeep's eyes caught Bahar's, who motioned towards the door. The innkeep nodded, grabbing his cat as he exited. Bahar, placing down his drink, looked to the man next to him.
"What could I do for you boys?" He asked, sarcasm tinging his voice.
The man snarled, his putrid breath causing Bahar to grimace in disgust. "Captain Arik would like a word with you, pig!" As he said this, he slammed his hand on the counter, causing some of the tan sailor's drink to moisten the wood.
"Ah." He threw back what remained in the tankard. "I thought Captain Arik was dead? Considering that I killed him." At these words, the man spat in Bahar's face, who slowly wiped off the saliva with his hand.
"Yeah, well you're about to meet him!" He reached for his blade, but Bahar slammed his fist into his face, causing him to stumble back, his nose a bloody mess. The captain deftly leaped to his feet, throwing another man behind him as he came forward with an attack, the man flying into the glass behind the counter. He dodged as a third man struck at him with an axe, the blade stuck in the wood, and Bahar slammed his head into its shaft. The final goon raised his sword to slice down, his back to the door, when an arrow was lodged in his neck, and his face wore a shocked expression as he fell to the floor.
Across the room, a Qurn was holding a readied bow. Next to him, Admiral Nadurtha, the High King's naval coordinator. As the two of them stepped into the tavern followed by a handful of Taisafirin, the Admiral looked to the pirates, and shouted, "Leave." The three surviving criminals quickly scurrying out. "You're getting careless, Bahar."
The captain chuckled, and sat back at the counter, rubbing the red of his bloodstained knuckles on his blue and white clothing, while the mercenaries stood guard at the door. "I knew they were coming, why else would I go to the tavern alone?" Smirking, the Admiral went behind the bar and poured the captain a glass of date wine. "So, Nadi, how's King Had's boots tasting?"
Pouring a glass for herself, the admiral responded, "That's High King Had," she corrected before continuing, "and lately...salty." The wine tasted bittersweet, and awfully warm. "I suppose you know why I've sought after you?" Bahar nodded.
"I suppose I do."
"What do you know about these foreign ships, these Junks?" the admiral inquired.
Bahar shrugged as the corpse was removed behind him. "Same as everybody else. They use magic. Black flag, you live poor. Red flag, you die rich," He paused, contemplating the last sentence, before adding, "Or, as rich as an Olirian can be without a king's blood."
"You've done well for yourself, captain." The admiral responded.
"You've done better, admiral." The two of them stopped a moment, an awkward silence hanging in the air.
Nadurtha broke it with a question. "How's your new first mate?" They locked eyes.
"He's doing well, Formorians know the sea better then most Men." Coughing on the drink, he added, "Much better than my last one." Nadurtha rolled her eyes.
"You know you'd be in my shoes if you could-"
"If I could what? Reign it in? Control myself? Bow down to some throne to live a life of-of...nothing!" He stood up. "When's the last time you actually set sail, Nadurtha?" The admiral averted his gaze, staring blankly at the wall. After waiting a moment, Bahar scoffed. "That's what I thought." He walked towards the door, pushing the guards out of his way, when the woman called after him.
"Wait!" Bahar stopped. "Bahar...we need you, we need the Liba. I know it's been hard to find work since the privateering days have ended, and I know you're not the sort to enjoy escorts and transportation." The captain turned around.
"Why should I take this job?"
"If not for a sense of civic duty, then...do it for the pay." Bahar shook his head, and continued for the door, when Nadurtha stepped forward to latch onto his arm. "Do it...do it for me, Bahuri."
A couple hours later, Bahar walked to his ship, the Liba. His crew was loading the supplies they had bought from the village market onto the dhow, while Bahar's first mait, Has, stood on the dock. As his captain approached, he asked, "Captain, are you okay? I saw those men walk and, and then those guards..."
"I'm fine, friend." As he leapt onto his ship, he said, "Get ready to depart, I found us a job."
"Oi, best news I heard all day captain! Where we headed?" The men stopped loading to hear their captain's response.
"Rilik."
(A work by Ekrigma)
The riverport of Rilik was bustling with men, Grogar, and livestock. Cargo was being loaded and unloaded, while the prices of fake gold and dried dates were screeched out by ugly women and orphaned children. There was mist and smoke in the air, mixing in a gaseous stew as an Ardirian trade ship pulled into port.
Resting deep in the cargo hold of the aforementioned trade ship, an odd-looking Grogar laid against the wooden hull, sitting alone among crates, caged animals and rotting carcasses of "freshly" caught sea creatures, the combined stench from animal droppings and rotting flesh would drive one mad for any prolonged exposure, although there are those that can take such stench better then others. The ship begun to tremble as it slowly docked, followed by several footsteps as three human men descended into the cargo hold. "Get up, we're here." the leader of the trio spoke up. The Grogar stood up, shouldering a small sack filled with his belongings over his left shoulder and carried a smaller sack on his other hand, he made his slow approach to the traders. "As agreed." The Grogar said as he tossed the smaller bag towards the men, the leader catching it.
The Captain stretched the bag open to reveal over eighty gold coins, the sight of the coins giving the three men wide grins, the Captain's eyes now directed towards the stranger. "A pleasure doing business."
"Mmh." The Grogar grunted as he quickly took his leave, the further away from the stench he was, the better.
The Grogar made his way past the crowds as he left the bustling port, and ventured deep into the city, walking down its streets, passing by "fellow" grogar as they traded quick glances towards the new arrival, and his....odd appearance, normally he would've been giving giving sour expressions and and outspoken condemnation, he was all too aware of those looks. "Half-breed." They would quietly say with great disdain, already it was quite different compared to back home. The Half-Grogar continued down the path until he had came across a small distraction. A convoy of carts,and their beasts, some Oxen, standing in the way.
An aging human man stood on the back of his cart, his face sunken and wrinkled from years moving his cart in the sun. Even keeping balanced as the slight movements of the oxen swayed his cart to and fro seemed like a challenge for him as his cane scratched the floor of the wagon. Squinting his suncaked eyes, he shouted repeatedly, "Transport to Svawad! One spot left! Leaving as soon as we're filled up!" Behind him were a mixture of people; traders looking to sell their goods to the Black Band, tourists wishing to see the famed castle, farmers returning from selling their crop, and hopeful applicants to the Black Band itself.
The ears of the Half-Grogar perked up as the word "Svawad" was spoken, and quickly scanned the the carts, taking notice of the Black Band hopefuls. Without a second to spare, he spoke up. "I'll fill in the last spot!" He shouted out and quickly ran to the empty spot in the last cart.
"Oi!" The human shouted out, pointing his cane towards the oncoming hybrid. "Get back Half-Blood! I don't want any trouble!" His eyes were filled with an ancient concoction of superstition and fear often called 'hatred', and if he were a couple decades younger he'd likely have gotten violent. The young mercenaries on the cart visibly moved their hands to their weapons, one or two of them even starting to slowly move to their feet.
This, this was all too familiar to the Half-breed. This old man's hatred echoing the same feelings channeled by his fellow clansmen of Ardir, but he was so close to his new start in life, to be among the Black Band, and he wouldn't let this bigotry stand in his way. "I have little time for this..." He started to raise his voice, he soon noticed several men close to arming themselves, with a deep sigh, the half-breed as well slowly moved his hand down for his blade.
As the old man saw him move his hands to his blade, fear started to well up within him. "Please...we...we don't want trouble...just...find another ride!" Some of the city guards had taken notice and were clasping onto their spears tightly.
The half-breed turned to face several spear tips. "I'm not here to start any trouble, I simply wish transport to Svawad Castle..."
"Another half-breed trying to join up with the pig-faced general? Bah!" A guard said as he spat on the ground. "Good luck...looks like you're walking!" The guards stood still, clearly not going to move as long as the half-grogar was intent on staying.
"Get out of here!" The old man shouted, his courage returned now that the guards have come to his aid.
He turned to give the old man a death glare, almost intent on strike him down where he sat, but that would be counterproductive, and block his path to Svawad. "Fine, I'll leave you lot of bastards." With that, he left in a huff, might as well start his long, and tiring treck to Svawad Castle. Eventually some time passes, and the Black Band hopeful finds himself on the outskirts of the city as the scenery grew more and more green. As he looked ahead, he saw a strange scene playing out in front of him.
"Please, have you no kindness in your heart!" A young human man in his late teens or early twenties said, as he threw himself at the feet of larger grogar. He was lanky, with a full beard despite his youthful appearance, and different from the other humans; his tan skin contrasted against his white tunic, and he spoke with an accent. Tears were welled up in his eyes, as the grogar kicked him with his ankles, shaking him off and bloodying the boy's face.
"Get off me, boy! It's done, now get gone!" The grogar was clearly not in any mood to continue their conversation, and had the looks of a man embedded in an...unfavorable crowd. As he shook off the boy, he began to withdraw a long blade, which the gangly man quickly began to scuttle away from.
Without much hesitation, the half-breed drew his blade as he came charging towards the larger Grogar, their blades clashing. "Leave the boy alone!" He shouted.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, ape-spawn," The grogar growled, as he maintained the parry. Behind them, the young man had gotten to his feet and placed a stone in his sling. Moving to the side, he stood, glaring threateningly at the grogar. "Put down the blade," he said, as the Formorian begrudgingly obliged, placing his place on the ground as he kneeled to the ground, his arms raised in the air. "You sure you need me as an enemy, bastard child? You have no knowledge of this situation!"
"He lies, sir! I brought him a flock of sheep, but he refuses to pay me...I need to send the money to my village, they may go hungry without it!" The grogar huffed at this and rolled his eyes.
"The sheep were thin and sickly, I'm not going to pay for shit sheep!"
"Please, friend, I am from Ghabar, if we know one thing, it is our sheep!" Looking down at the Grogar, one could see a fat coin purse stuck in his belt; he clearly brought the money, intent on paying, but realized he could take advantage of the situation.
"I may know little." The Half-breed started. "But I can clearly see a cheat when I see it, and a poor one at that. Give the boy his coins and you can walk with both your sheep and your life."
The grogar hesitated, looking between the two, then embarrasedly stood to his feet, grumbling as he placed his blade in its sheath and tossed the purse to the boy. "Enjoy your money...I hope you fucking choke on it," he muttered as he slunk away. The boy then turned to the half-blood.
"Thank you...thank you so much...I don't know what I would have done without you. I am Seadne, what is your name?"
"It's Kormor." He said, sheathing his own blade.
"Kormor...you are not from around here, are you?" Seadne asked, as he put away his sling and wiped the blood from his face.
"You would be right lad." Kormor said. "I've come from the mainland, a land called Tarkima."
Seadne nodded. "Tarkima...the land of the Formorrin. So what brings you to the island?"
"A new start." Kormor replied. " I'm an outcast, unwanted by my own people. So I came here to seek a new people, a new family, the Black Band."
A wide grin grew on Seadne's face. "The Black Band? I am going to join them as well!" He chuckled. "I tended the sheep in my village, but we have fallen on hard times. They sent me to Rilik to sell our flock with a Karkadanh cart, and then I will head to Svawad, so I may return to my village a wealthy man." He stood for a moment, realizing at the very least the pure physical difference between him and Kormor. He sighed, shook his head, and then asked, "But why are you walking there? There are many carts in Rilik for men like us."
Kormor sighed. "Well my lad, it seems this city is not too different from my homeland." He paused for a brief moment, remember his rather rough childhood in the "Royal" Capital. "I'm looked upon with disgust and fear, even the guards refused to help, so I have no choice but to continue my quest on foot."
Saddened by Kormor's dilemma, Seadne looked down for a moment. "Aye, I have never known a Formori before today but...I have heard of how closed a man's heart can be." He considered a moment before saying, "Please, travel with me, there is room for another in my cart."
"I thank you Seadne, that would help me greatly." Kormor said with a smile. "I'll be sure to pay you back for you're kindness...evenutally."
A few days later, two Karkadanh were pulling their cart up the hill towards Svawad. Karkadanh are strange beasts; with the appearance of a small horse (despite the horn protruding from their head), but with many of the movements of a wolf. As they came over the hill, a wide grin fell onto the shepherd's face. "Ah...we have made it."
Svawad Castle rose high above the village of Svawad, which was bustling with activity, the inns of the town kept full by a constant flow of people trying to join the Black Band and people trying to contract them. As Seadne rode through town, the air was far different than that of Rilik; while people still hawked their wares on the side of the road, there was less of a sense of desparation, and people barely even noticed Kormor or his appearance. After they had dropped the Karkadanh off at a stable, Seadne and Kormor hiked up to the Castle, when they came upon dozens of others in their same situation, both Formorian and Human, waiting outside the gates.
After waiting around an hour, the gates opened, and an aging woman with an eyepatch, a limp, and covered in scars walked out. "Line up in rows of ten!" She screeched, not even looking at the applicants.
Seadne looked over to Kormor. "Better do as she says, huh friend?"
Kormor turned and nodded to Seadne. "Agreed, we best get in formation." With that, the two lined up with the other applicants, Seadne overshadowed by both Kormor and another Grogar as he stood in between them. "Don't let your nerves get the better of you, we'll both impress the Black Band no doubt about it."
The woman snaked around the candidates, stop briefly and looking at each one, and before moving on either saying nothing or asking them to step forward. Eventually, after telling around forty percent of the warriors to step forward, she came to Seadne and Kormor, the last of the group. She began scanning Seadne briefly, before asking him to step forward, to which he nervously obliged. Then she came to Kormor.
She studied him for a long while, her one eye squinting as sweat built above her brow. Looking away without having said anything to him, she yelled, "All candidates not asked to step forward may leave now!" before she began to trudge back towards the castle gate.
This was a surreal moment for Kormor, thoughts racing in his mind as to what has just transpired, although it seemed one thing was very clear, much to his fear, but he needed a confirmation from one of them, he stepped forward, calling out to the one-eyed woman. "Uh, ma'am. "Kormor nervously spoke up, he couldn't help but be intimidated by her appearance. "Have we...been rejected?"
She turned around, obviously annoyed by the interruption as most of them headed down the mountain shamefully. "Yes," she said, "You have." Nodding to Seadne, who was standing in shock, she added, "He hasn't." As she turned away, she concluded with, "Come back in the winter, we'll be recruiting again."
"No...no.." Kormor mumbled to himself. "I have come too far to be turned away..." Kormor stood there, like a statue. "No..no..no, I WILL not go back!"
She stopped turning again with her arms crossed. "And where exactly have you come from?"
"Tarkima!" Seadne blurted out. She glared at him for a second before turning back to Kormor.
"Tarkima? Is that true?"
"...Yes. it is." Kormor replied.
She sighed, and stood there, pondering for a moment. "Fine. You may stay," she paused and pursed her lips, "but you will have to explain yourself to Gultar."
Kormor looked up, his eyes widened and confused, yet estastic. "Thank you! I will explain to the best of my ability!"
She grunted, and and turned away. A few more hours of waiting passed before the gates opened up again. A large Grogar in his 50's walked through the gate, the same one-eyed woman at his side. He walked unlike any Grogar in Tarkima; he stood with intelligence, poise, and wisdom, with a stick in his hand, not for walking, but for inspection: undoubtably, this was the pig-faced general; Gultar the Stick. As he and the woman walked out, she called for them to form a single line in front of them, with Seadne running up to the end of it.
Kormor was no too far behind as he followed in formation, the sight that was Gultar was as danuting as his recruiter, and just as imposing as the most fierce of tarkiman warchiefs. Despite the unusual conditions of his "recruitment", Kormor was all the more nervous, he needed to impress Gultar enough to be worthy among the Black Band.
Gultar wordlessly began his inspections, going from recruit to recruit, prodding them with his stick, occasionally giving them a light whap to gauge their reaction. Every so often he would ask them a question or two, before telling them whether or not they've been accepted. Eventually he came to Seadne.
He began prodding and poking, which only showcased the boy's obvious physical weakness. Gultar stood considering for a second, before asking, "What can you do?"
"I...I can hunt...I'm good with a sling. I can cook, tend animals...I know some about healing...I'm sorry, I'm not much of a warrior..." Gultar stood there, nodding.
"Alright, you're in."
"Wh-really?" Seadne asked in amazement.
"Yeah. Don't make me regret it."
"I...I won't, I promise sir!"
Gultar said nothing as he moved on to Kormor. Before he began any inspection, the woman walked up to him and whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded in reply. "So," he said to Kormor, "You're from the homeland?"
"That's right, sir." Kormor replied. "I've come far, formerly of the Ardir Clan."
"Huh." Gultar suddenly became very concerned with his nailed, inspecting his claws as he said, "You know, if I let in every half breed with a dream, there wouldn't be a pure blood in sight." He looked up to Kormor. "What makes you special, boy?"
"....To be honest." Kormor started. "Nothing in particular. I was born and raised in the slums of Ardirum, I was forced into common thievery just to survive. "He paused, thinking back on both the the bad, but also the good memories, "But it was a life not even worth living. So I made one last attempt in being a thief, and bribied the the cheapest trader to bring me here."
Gultar nodded, taking in his story. "Nobody is forced into thievery, son. There is always a choice." He back up, addressing the accepted recruits. "A choice between living for yourself and living for your brother, your comrade." He looked back to Kormor. "Can you honestly say you would ever put anybody's life here before your own?"
Kormor's eyes lowered, in deep thought as Gultar's words had an effect on him "...Yes, I've always had the yearning to belong, to truely have family...today, If you'll have me, I will be a changed man, I will have a greater purpose."
"Well..." Gultar looked down at his stick, feeling it in his hands. He looked at the cracks, the smooth edges, the warping. Without looking up, he said. "This is your chance, then. Don't waste it."
This was it, the moment Kormor had dreamt of, this was the day he finally became one of the Black Band, his emotions ran wild within, but to the best of his ability, he fought to keep it in, at least for the moment. "Thank you, sir!" He exclaimed with excitment. "I will not waste this chance you've given me!"
The pig-faced general replied with but a grunt, and he turned to the rest of the group, pointing at the woman with his stick while the gates opened behind them. "This is Sula, my second in command. She will show you your quarters for tonight. Training will begin tomorrow at dawn."
Rilik, Capital of Olira
The riverport of Rilik was bustling with men, Grogar, and livestock. Cargo was being loaded and unloaded, while the prices of fake gold and dried dates were screeched out by ugly women and orphaned children. There was mist and smoke in the air, mixing in a gaseous stew as an Ardirian trade ship pulled into port.
Resting deep in the cargo hold of the aforementioned trade ship, an odd-looking Grogar laid against the wooden hull, sitting alone among crates, caged animals and rotting carcasses of "freshly" caught sea creatures, the combined stench from animal droppings and rotting flesh would drive one mad for any prolonged exposure, although there are those that can take such stench better then others. The ship begun to tremble as it slowly docked, followed by several footsteps as three human men descended into the cargo hold. "Get up, we're here." the leader of the trio spoke up. The Grogar stood up, shouldering a small sack filled with his belongings over his left shoulder and carried a smaller sack on his other hand, he made his slow approach to the traders. "As agreed." The Grogar said as he tossed the smaller bag towards the men, the leader catching it.
The Captain stretched the bag open to reveal over eighty gold coins, the sight of the coins giving the three men wide grins, the Captain's eyes now directed towards the stranger. "A pleasure doing business."
"Mmh." The Grogar grunted as he quickly took his leave, the further away from the stench he was, the better.
The Grogar made his way past the crowds as he left the bustling port, and ventured deep into the city, walking down its streets, passing by "fellow" grogar as they traded quick glances towards the new arrival, and his....odd appearance, normally he would've been giving giving sour expressions and and outspoken condemnation, he was all too aware of those looks. "Half-breed." They would quietly say with great disdain, already it was quite different compared to back home. The Half-Grogar continued down the path until he had came across a small distraction. A convoy of carts,and their beasts, some Oxen, standing in the way.
An aging human man stood on the back of his cart, his face sunken and wrinkled from years moving his cart in the sun. Even keeping balanced as the slight movements of the oxen swayed his cart to and fro seemed like a challenge for him as his cane scratched the floor of the wagon. Squinting his suncaked eyes, he shouted repeatedly, "Transport to Svawad! One spot left! Leaving as soon as we're filled up!" Behind him were a mixture of people; traders looking to sell their goods to the Black Band, tourists wishing to see the famed castle, farmers returning from selling their crop, and hopeful applicants to the Black Band itself.
The ears of the Half-Grogar perked up as the word "Svawad" was spoken, and quickly scanned the the carts, taking notice of the Black Band hopefuls. Without a second to spare, he spoke up. "I'll fill in the last spot!" He shouted out and quickly ran to the empty spot in the last cart.
"Oi!" The human shouted out, pointing his cane towards the oncoming hybrid. "Get back Half-Blood! I don't want any trouble!" His eyes were filled with an ancient concoction of superstition and fear often called 'hatred', and if he were a couple decades younger he'd likely have gotten violent. The young mercenaries on the cart visibly moved their hands to their weapons, one or two of them even starting to slowly move to their feet.
This, this was all too familiar to the Half-breed. This old man's hatred echoing the same feelings channeled by his fellow clansmen of Ardir, but he was so close to his new start in life, to be among the Black Band, and he wouldn't let this bigotry stand in his way. "I have little time for this..." He started to raise his voice, he soon noticed several men close to arming themselves, with a deep sigh, the half-breed as well slowly moved his hand down for his blade.
As the old man saw him move his hands to his blade, fear started to well up within him. "Please...we...we don't want trouble...just...find another ride!" Some of the city guards had taken notice and were clasping onto their spears tightly.
The half-breed turned to face several spear tips. "I'm not here to start any trouble, I simply wish transport to Svawad Castle..."
"Another half-breed trying to join up with the pig-faced general? Bah!" A guard said as he spat on the ground. "Good luck...looks like you're walking!" The guards stood still, clearly not going to move as long as the half-grogar was intent on staying.
"Get out of here!" The old man shouted, his courage returned now that the guards have come to his aid.
He turned to give the old man a death glare, almost intent on strike him down where he sat, but that would be counterproductive, and block his path to Svawad. "Fine, I'll leave you lot of bastards." With that, he left in a huff, might as well start his long, and tiring treck to Svawad Castle. Eventually some time passes, and the Black Band hopeful finds himself on the outskirts of the city as the scenery grew more and more green. As he looked ahead, he saw a strange scene playing out in front of him.
"Please, have you no kindness in your heart!" A young human man in his late teens or early twenties said, as he threw himself at the feet of larger grogar. He was lanky, with a full beard despite his youthful appearance, and different from the other humans; his tan skin contrasted against his white tunic, and he spoke with an accent. Tears were welled up in his eyes, as the grogar kicked him with his ankles, shaking him off and bloodying the boy's face.
"Get off me, boy! It's done, now get gone!" The grogar was clearly not in any mood to continue their conversation, and had the looks of a man embedded in an...unfavorable crowd. As he shook off the boy, he began to withdraw a long blade, which the gangly man quickly began to scuttle away from.
Without much hesitation, the half-breed drew his blade as he came charging towards the larger Grogar, their blades clashing. "Leave the boy alone!" He shouted.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, ape-spawn," The grogar growled, as he maintained the parry. Behind them, the young man had gotten to his feet and placed a stone in his sling. Moving to the side, he stood, glaring threateningly at the grogar. "Put down the blade," he said, as the Formorian begrudgingly obliged, placing his place on the ground as he kneeled to the ground, his arms raised in the air. "You sure you need me as an enemy, bastard child? You have no knowledge of this situation!"
"He lies, sir! I brought him a flock of sheep, but he refuses to pay me...I need to send the money to my village, they may go hungry without it!" The grogar huffed at this and rolled his eyes.
"The sheep were thin and sickly, I'm not going to pay for shit sheep!"
"Please, friend, I am from Ghabar, if we know one thing, it is our sheep!" Looking down at the Grogar, one could see a fat coin purse stuck in his belt; he clearly brought the money, intent on paying, but realized he could take advantage of the situation.
"I may know little." The Half-breed started. "But I can clearly see a cheat when I see it, and a poor one at that. Give the boy his coins and you can walk with both your sheep and your life."
The grogar hesitated, looking between the two, then embarrasedly stood to his feet, grumbling as he placed his blade in its sheath and tossed the purse to the boy. "Enjoy your money...I hope you fucking choke on it," he muttered as he slunk away. The boy then turned to the half-blood.
"Thank you...thank you so much...I don't know what I would have done without you. I am Seadne, what is your name?"
"It's Kormor." He said, sheathing his own blade.
"Kormor...you are not from around here, are you?" Seadne asked, as he put away his sling and wiped the blood from his face.
"You would be right lad." Kormor said. "I've come from the mainland, a land called Tarkima."
Seadne nodded. "Tarkima...the land of the Formorrin. So what brings you to the island?"
"A new start." Kormor replied. " I'm an outcast, unwanted by my own people. So I came here to seek a new people, a new family, the Black Band."
A wide grin grew on Seadne's face. "The Black Band? I am going to join them as well!" He chuckled. "I tended the sheep in my village, but we have fallen on hard times. They sent me to Rilik to sell our flock with a Karkadanh cart, and then I will head to Svawad, so I may return to my village a wealthy man." He stood for a moment, realizing at the very least the pure physical difference between him and Kormor. He sighed, shook his head, and then asked, "But why are you walking there? There are many carts in Rilik for men like us."
Kormor sighed. "Well my lad, it seems this city is not too different from my homeland." He paused for a brief moment, remember his rather rough childhood in the "Royal" Capital. "I'm looked upon with disgust and fear, even the guards refused to help, so I have no choice but to continue my quest on foot."
Saddened by Kormor's dilemma, Seadne looked down for a moment. "Aye, I have never known a Formori before today but...I have heard of how closed a man's heart can be." He considered a moment before saying, "Please, travel with me, there is room for another in my cart."
"I thank you Seadne, that would help me greatly." Kormor said with a smile. "I'll be sure to pay you back for you're kindness...evenutally."
Svawad
A few days later, two Karkadanh were pulling their cart up the hill towards Svawad. Karkadanh are strange beasts; with the appearance of a small horse (despite the horn protruding from their head), but with many of the movements of a wolf. As they came over the hill, a wide grin fell onto the shepherd's face. "Ah...we have made it."
Svawad Castle rose high above the village of Svawad, which was bustling with activity, the inns of the town kept full by a constant flow of people trying to join the Black Band and people trying to contract them. As Seadne rode through town, the air was far different than that of Rilik; while people still hawked their wares on the side of the road, there was less of a sense of desparation, and people barely even noticed Kormor or his appearance. After they had dropped the Karkadanh off at a stable, Seadne and Kormor hiked up to the Castle, when they came upon dozens of others in their same situation, both Formorian and Human, waiting outside the gates.
After waiting around an hour, the gates opened, and an aging woman with an eyepatch, a limp, and covered in scars walked out. "Line up in rows of ten!" She screeched, not even looking at the applicants.
Seadne looked over to Kormor. "Better do as she says, huh friend?"
Kormor turned and nodded to Seadne. "Agreed, we best get in formation." With that, the two lined up with the other applicants, Seadne overshadowed by both Kormor and another Grogar as he stood in between them. "Don't let your nerves get the better of you, we'll both impress the Black Band no doubt about it."
The woman snaked around the candidates, stop briefly and looking at each one, and before moving on either saying nothing or asking them to step forward. Eventually, after telling around forty percent of the warriors to step forward, she came to Seadne and Kormor, the last of the group. She began scanning Seadne briefly, before asking him to step forward, to which he nervously obliged. Then she came to Kormor.
She studied him for a long while, her one eye squinting as sweat built above her brow. Looking away without having said anything to him, she yelled, "All candidates not asked to step forward may leave now!" before she began to trudge back towards the castle gate.
This was a surreal moment for Kormor, thoughts racing in his mind as to what has just transpired, although it seemed one thing was very clear, much to his fear, but he needed a confirmation from one of them, he stepped forward, calling out to the one-eyed woman. "Uh, ma'am. "Kormor nervously spoke up, he couldn't help but be intimidated by her appearance. "Have we...been rejected?"
She turned around, obviously annoyed by the interruption as most of them headed down the mountain shamefully. "Yes," she said, "You have." Nodding to Seadne, who was standing in shock, she added, "He hasn't." As she turned away, she concluded with, "Come back in the winter, we'll be recruiting again."
"No...no.." Kormor mumbled to himself. "I have come too far to be turned away..." Kormor stood there, like a statue. "No..no..no, I WILL not go back!"
She stopped turning again with her arms crossed. "And where exactly have you come from?"
"Tarkima!" Seadne blurted out. She glared at him for a second before turning back to Kormor.
"Tarkima? Is that true?"
"...Yes. it is." Kormor replied.
She sighed, and stood there, pondering for a moment. "Fine. You may stay," she paused and pursed her lips, "but you will have to explain yourself to Gultar."
Kormor looked up, his eyes widened and confused, yet estastic. "Thank you! I will explain to the best of my ability!"
She grunted, and and turned away. A few more hours of waiting passed before the gates opened up again. A large Grogar in his 50's walked through the gate, the same one-eyed woman at his side. He walked unlike any Grogar in Tarkima; he stood with intelligence, poise, and wisdom, with a stick in his hand, not for walking, but for inspection: undoubtably, this was the pig-faced general; Gultar the Stick. As he and the woman walked out, she called for them to form a single line in front of them, with Seadne running up to the end of it.
Kormor was no too far behind as he followed in formation, the sight that was Gultar was as danuting as his recruiter, and just as imposing as the most fierce of tarkiman warchiefs. Despite the unusual conditions of his "recruitment", Kormor was all the more nervous, he needed to impress Gultar enough to be worthy among the Black Band.
Gultar wordlessly began his inspections, going from recruit to recruit, prodding them with his stick, occasionally giving them a light whap to gauge their reaction. Every so often he would ask them a question or two, before telling them whether or not they've been accepted. Eventually he came to Seadne.
He began prodding and poking, which only showcased the boy's obvious physical weakness. Gultar stood considering for a second, before asking, "What can you do?"
"I...I can hunt...I'm good with a sling. I can cook, tend animals...I know some about healing...I'm sorry, I'm not much of a warrior..." Gultar stood there, nodding.
"Alright, you're in."
"Wh-really?" Seadne asked in amazement.
"Yeah. Don't make me regret it."
"I...I won't, I promise sir!"
Gultar said nothing as he moved on to Kormor. Before he began any inspection, the woman walked up to him and whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded in reply. "So," he said to Kormor, "You're from the homeland?"
"That's right, sir." Kormor replied. "I've come far, formerly of the Ardir Clan."
"Huh." Gultar suddenly became very concerned with his nailed, inspecting his claws as he said, "You know, if I let in every half breed with a dream, there wouldn't be a pure blood in sight." He looked up to Kormor. "What makes you special, boy?"
"....To be honest." Kormor started. "Nothing in particular. I was born and raised in the slums of Ardirum, I was forced into common thievery just to survive. "He paused, thinking back on both the the bad, but also the good memories, "But it was a life not even worth living. So I made one last attempt in being a thief, and bribied the the cheapest trader to bring me here."
Gultar nodded, taking in his story. "Nobody is forced into thievery, son. There is always a choice." He back up, addressing the accepted recruits. "A choice between living for yourself and living for your brother, your comrade." He looked back to Kormor. "Can you honestly say you would ever put anybody's life here before your own?"
Kormor's eyes lowered, in deep thought as Gultar's words had an effect on him "...Yes, I've always had the yearning to belong, to truely have family...today, If you'll have me, I will be a changed man, I will have a greater purpose."
"Well..." Gultar looked down at his stick, feeling it in his hands. He looked at the cracks, the smooth edges, the warping. Without looking up, he said. "This is your chance, then. Don't waste it."
This was it, the moment Kormor had dreamt of, this was the day he finally became one of the Black Band, his emotions ran wild within, but to the best of his ability, he fought to keep it in, at least for the moment. "Thank you, sir!" He exclaimed with excitment. "I will not waste this chance you've given me!"
The pig-faced general replied with but a grunt, and he turned to the rest of the group, pointing at the woman with his stick while the gates opened behind them. "This is Sula, my second in command. She will show you your quarters for tonight. Training will begin tomorrow at dawn."
© 2007-2024