InfiniteEmbers

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

[Soladaak]

The vast army carried on the frenzy before quietening down and starting to set up camp outside the city walls, ready for the march. Azarth returned to the throne room, setting out his possible plans with his most trusted military advisor's. Ammok looked around the unit to check the messenger was among them. "Messenger, near me or you'll fall behind. Ragr! We cut through the Elven forest to save time!" Ammok ordered. "Isn't that a bit risk-" A fellow soldier questioned but cut off by Ammok. "Are you doubting my command soldier?" Ammok growled. "No, Ammok, sir." The soldier replied with a whimper in his voice. "Good, then we ride!" The unit scattered off from the vast army. Towards the Elven forest.

[Arathel Siliva]

Arathel raised a eyebrow as the king softly passed his hand onto her shoulder. Thoughts of disgust and sadness past through her like a cold wind. "I wish I could once again ride in battle with your father. He was a great man..." The king spoke softly. Arathel's eyes were shaking, she didn't want to hear the kings remorse. "Are you here to aid us in the war? We could use your help, as Razgar's numbers are getting dangerously high as we speak. I fear we may be at disadvantage at this very moment." She heard the kings desperate sounding cry for help. Her anger couldn't be kept quiet and she put her hand on the hilt of her blade. A paladin behind her, put a hand on her shoulder as a sign of telling her simply no. Her hand moved away from her blade. "If it were not for the Drake's I would let Razgar take everything from you, Just as the Drake did me. I have come to warn you that the Drake's are ready to march. Without me they will march into your lands with no pity. No pity on your villages, the children. They will burn everything. Not because Razgar tells them so but because they are driven by the riches of your land and they will stop at nothing until their lord Azarth is sitting on a pile of Armanian gold. I hear rumours that they are also bringing Dragons forth with them. If they do so then they will tear our forces to shreds, I ask of you the legend of the Griffins. If the legend is true then I can hopefully reach them in time to ask them to join us. It may seem foolish but it's all we have got. I'm sure Azarth is keeping his use of dragons secret from Razgar and for good reason, I don't have the time on my hands to find out what reason that may be." Arathel cups her hands as they shake. "I just want the Drake's rid from our lands forever and I can't do that if you don't tell me the legend of the Griffins." Arathel looks to the floor as she calms down, waiting for the kings reply.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

I'm waiting for Warlord and others to post.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

Arathel's Arrival


[Read Arathel's post while listening.]
[Pg 2 second entry of Arathel.]

Operation: Crimson Titan (Futuristic Military/ Futuristic Warfare/ Possible Mech rp)

Interested. Reminds me of Starship Troopers.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

[Arathel Siliva]

Arathel's blonde hair waved gently in the breeze. The sound of the horses gruffing after their journey, hooves clottering against the cobblestone road. Her men were very obedient towards her cause, brave and strong-spirited. The two flags carried by the unit held high to mark their presence. The emblem known by many. Arathel paid no attention to those surrounding her. She wasn't arrogant but there was a lot on her mind, mainly Drakes and her Father as this moment in time brought up her past memories. A horn was suddenly heard in the distance. Everyone around her stopped what they were doing. Her eyes started to shake in fear. She hasn't heard that sound since... It wasn't long till she narrowed her eyes in anger. "Drakes. We don't have much time." She barked. With one mighty hand gesture on the reins of her horse. "Argentina quickly now." Argentina screamed and shot forward with her troops following behind her. Kicking up the debris trapped between the cobblestone gaps.

She dismounted Argentine along with her soldiers. Deciding to take only four guards while the others sorted among their supplies and equipment. Walking proudly into the palace. A soldier at every corner of her. Entering the throne room as the guard open the reinforced oak doors. Kneeling to one knee. "My king, surprised to see me? If only my father was here to aid you once more." She kind of disliked the king, blaming him for not supporting the White Paladins sooner. Blaming him for his fathers death but also taking a kind respect to the fact that the Drakes were also to blame. Raising herself up with her guards behind her. The black manes of their helmets looking like they are trying to extend to the ceiling. Heavy shields held tight and swords respectively in their sheaths. Muscular physique. A good example of a soldier.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

The Drake King's Speech


[Read Soladaak's post while listening.]
[Pg 2 Second entry of Soladaak]

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

[Soladaak]

Azarth looked down upon the messenger. "No, you are a guest. You may rise." Azarth pointed out. "My Warchief would like to invite you to a council of war noble Drake King. If you are unable to come he would like for someone you trust and guards to accompany me to Razgar." The messenger informed. Azarth stroke the thorns of his chin, many Drakes were born with thorns/spikes as well as scales. He was vigilant about his decision. A legion could be too slow to reach Razgar but give him a certain amount of support if the battle went on without the Drake's late start. Although a smaller mounted unit could get there twice as fast and could get back just in time for the army to march off. Azarth had made his decision. "Ammok." Azarth called. "My lord." Ammok replied. "Time to saddle up early, you will take the messenger to Razgar." Azarth ordered. Azarth mid-conversation was writing a scroll for which his message will be given. "But, my lor-" Ammok noted. "Exactly, I am your lord which is why you will not question my authority or decision. You will take the messenger to his destination and return here for the march. Azarth went on, handing the scroll to Ammok. "Yes my lord. I will deliver the message to Razgar." Ammok gestured, arching his neck.

"Now, if you don't mind following me to the assembly point, the horn will be heard shortly." Azarth disclosed. As he got up from the throne the drape like material of his armour flapped forward like wings. Strolling straight past Ammok and the messenger to which his guard formed around him like breathing fort walls. He started to make his way down the stone staircase. "Quickly messenger, it's time to get to the assembly point. The king is delivering a speech ther-." Ammok was cut off mid-conversation but not from Azarth but the horn that bellowed and shook the fortress for it was ment to be loud enough for Armania to hear it's roar as a sign Drakes had entered the horde's forces. Ammok looked up at the sound of the horn as loose dust from the cracks in the stone came down from the ceiling. Looking back down at the messenger as the horn gave it's final tune. "Quickly messenger follow me." Ammok urged. The journey to the assembly point was a mad frenzy, soldiers scattered here and there, dressing up in their armour and equipping their weapons. Commanders heard around the street rallying their troops. "Form up you spineless dogs!" "Into formationnn!" The rally point was outside of the city walls. Ammok walked into the Ragr formation and quickly saddled up onto his wildebeest which leapt it's front legs into the air and back down to the ground in mad excitement. "Find your mount messenger and quickly!" Ammok bellowed.

Azarth was at the peak of the front wall. Overlooking endless square formations coming together. Troops scurried out of the gates to find their units. The Ragr unit was just coming out of the gate. Foot soldiers passed around them like a strong flowing river. The wildebeest were calm and so were the Ragr unit. It was the trait of Ragr to have such calmness in the harshest of situations. The formations were nearly completed and the Ragr unit were positioning their selves at the back of the force. As they rode past they could see the faces of their comrades through their helmets. Some roaring and some sweating with adrenaline. The Drakes were ready for battle. The Ragr unit came to a halt and faced their capital to hear the speech.

"The troops are ready my lord." A guard spoke up to Azarth keeping very low to be respectful towards his master. Azarth nodded and faced his forces, raising his hands in the air. The troops went crazy, roaring and shouting Azarth's name. Spears were being lunged into the air. "We are the Drakes! Our forces were scattered over the land in the last war! But we being Drakes! Do not let our enemies triffle over us! We are not prey! We are the hunters! I fight not with any other race! We are lions! Over in the Armanian territory is immortality, Our people will talk of how we conquered Armania and wiped them off the face of the planet! They will be eating out of our hands! No-one survives! Take it, take the immortality! It's yours!" Azarth's voice was nearly as loud as the horn. It pumped his troops with fierceness to match no man. Anger to burn villages and kill peasants. The Drake forces are ready to set out and conquer.

OOC for A Superpowered War

Name: Rolf Hudard
Age: 54
Country of Origin: England
Power(s): From object's he can pick up memories. He can detect memories in a room. It's sort of like a scent, a memory grows duller as time proceeds and is harder to focus on. Through the memories he can sense, emotions, pain and thoughts.
Greek Name: Sigma
Appearance:

Head/Hair

Clothes

Personality: Distant, Stone-hearted, Intelligent, Organised, Sly.
History: He was a former x-convict. His powers drove him mad; hearing voices here and there without any knowledge of how to control them. After the government took investigations into the meteor and what the effects the radiation it gave off were like on some people. They found him, They gave him the opportunity to help them and to better equip his powers. Rolf was already a few screws loose before prison but now he enjoys the hunt. He enjoys tracking and helping to capture his own kind. [More of his past will come back to him as the roleplay goes on, the plot will play around his particular power and the government that controls him.]
Other: He has methods of capturing such as pretending he is on their side and etc. He is very cunning.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

[Arathel Siliva]

Arathel rode towards the Armanian captial on her white horse, Argentina. Her forces of white paladins had made camp a few miles from the capital where they are stocking up on supplies and taking their last moments before the front-line battle. However Arathel took twenty mounted soldiers along with her for safe measures. You never know where Orks or any other enemies of Armania could be holding out. Two soldiers held flags for their arrival, a white flag with a black roaring lion face upon it. The flags flapped and crinkled in the wind as well as Arathel's material within her armour. As the group came to the gates, they slowed their horses to a halt. Arathel hasn't been to the capital in what would seem years, the last time she came to the capital it was when her father's helmet came to her. She was allowed to wait there for her father's return as that was the assembly point for after the war encase broken Razgar units came to the capital for another stand-off. All those wounded and near-dead soldiers, such pain, such manly screams and at such a young age. She will not let that happen to her people again. "I am Arathel, commander of the White Paladins. I request an audience with king Arman IV." "Open the gates!" The soldier commanded up to the top of the walls. As the gates opened, Arathel and her troop rode gently in. A message was sent to king Arman IV of Arathel arrival at the city.

The Conflict: Armanian Union and Razgar's Tribes (Medieval fantasy RP)

[Soladaak]

Finally reaching the city gates of Tizt, the capital was nothing but a glorious settlement, build from the hands of the drakes. Huge stone walls with a few hundred guards scouting forward from above. Legions of Drakes marching and standing to the ready, their footsteps all pitched to a solid tune as armour clicked and chimed. Spears rising into the air and shields held firm. The guards at the gates immediately identified the Ragr brethren and gave them passage into the city. Voices were heard here and there. "Mummy those soldiers are from Ragr, aren't they?" A child spoke up to her mother, hiding behind the robes that cloaked her body. "Yes Furn, they are, and they are the most glorious soldiers in all the land." The mother replied, looking up at mounted soldiers. Soladaak overheard the conversation and tilted his head to the child to which it smiled and had a few seconds to enjoy that Soladaak took his time to notice.

As the unit came to a hold, the wildebeest panting and gruffing in exhaustion as the journey was a large one. A voice was heard again but very near, Soladaak looked down from his mount to glimpse eyes on a Ork messenger. "Excuse me would you kindly point me to your leaders residence, I have a message from my war chief." The messenger announced. Soladaak looked to the front of the unit. "Ammok! There's a Ork messenger here for you!" Soladaak alerted. From out of the dust kicked up by the wildebeests came Ammok, the guard chief which since the war came along has become the commander of the unit from Ragr. He was a strong and fierce looking Drake which is what all the commanders seemed to uphold physically. Only the strongest become commanders of their garrisons. "Ragr, you may dismount, put your mounts in the stables for resting as they will need their energy in battle, take your time and do what you like but when the horn sounds for assembly I expect you to be saddled up and at the assembly point on the double!" Ammok commanded. The unit dismounted and started organising their equipment on the wildebeest before taking them to the stables.

"Ork messenger, follow me. Azarth has been expecting you." Ammok looked down on the Ork. Drakes were always a tall race, tall and strong, ready for anything and always vigilant about it. Ammok and the Ork messenger squeezed through soldier or civilian, their was a lot of activity in Tizt and for good reason. They finally reached the inner gates which lead to Azarths inner fortress. "Halt!, I am know well of who you are Ammok but who is this Ork stranger you bring with you?" The guard questioned, putting a hand to Ammok's chest. Ammok looked down at the hand on his chest and flipped the guards arm behind his back. "He is Razgar's messenger you fool and if you know who I am you wouldn't be so disrespectful and let me through!" And with that Ammok pushed the guard forward. "Let them in!" The guard shouted looking pretty embarrassed in himself.

The inner fortress was a mighty structure build from huge stone blocks, you had to bend your back and look up at it to get the full picture. "I hope you like steps Ork." Ammok laughed. After reaching the top of the fortress and entering the throne room which had twenty guards in total and was dimly lit. Azarth was a huge Drake, mighty and strong but not ill-tempered and quite intelligent. The right ruler for the Drakes as most Drakes are quite short-tempered and abusive under the wrong command. Azarth has just finished talking to a commander from another settlement. Ammok seemed to know this particular Drake. As this Drake turned away from Azarth in completed conversation his eyes glowed at Ammok. "Ammok! I havn't seen you in what would seem years my old friend!" The Drake cheered. "I know, I know times are now in our favour. I will battle alongside you Brother." Ammok and what would now seem his relation had took arm and arm, a strong non shaken hand shake. A sign of respect in the Drake society. As Ammok's relation had left the throne room; Azarth laid eyes on the Ork. "You bring me a messenger Ammok?" Azarth asked. "I do my king. Go ahead." He replied and nudged the Ork Messenger.