The morning came quickly in the Amalian camp. The sky was clear and sun bright by the time every soldier found themselves dressed and ready. Still crippled from over drinking the warriors were assembled in block formations as though in a game of chess. When all had assembled together and hushed their groaning one man saw fit to speak to them.
He was tall with a strong look in his eyes. Though he wore bulking armour it was no secret that the man was a great and fearsome warrior. Even his voice told of a battle hardened veteran standing ahead the assembly. Vanis.
"We stand at the cusp of breaking through Castian's walls. Do not think failure is acceptable. We must take this fort by the end of the day or we will not be able to retreat. Reinforcements come from the North and our only hope is to fortify ourselves in those very walls."
The crowd became silent, even mutterings halted as the man spoke. Then as he finished hard whispers passed from mouth to ear, most contemplating turning tail now and not being slaughtered, though a few wondering how exactly they intended to break through the defenses of a fort in a day while a single wall had taken two months. Fierre was among both groups as he groaned in frustration cocking his head back then drooping it forward. Muttering that he'd told them so and he knew he was right to the three musketeers the mage adopted silence for a brief moment. Alven nudged him in the arm encouraging with a wide smile that they'd be fine. The others gave a halfhearted laugh.
It wasn't as though the four of them had much choice. Because of regulations stipulated on mages designating them to mandatory military service of at least seven years if Fierre ran he would be designated as an outlaw and danger. Subsequently in the past two decades groups of people particularly potent at capturing outlaw mages had grown in numbers making evasion impossible. To top it off even within service he wasn't trusted and so that brought to him the three musketeers. All of them veterans from one battle or another they had been assigned to act as bodyguards to Fierre to allow him to concentrate on spell weaving. After four years the three of them admitted the ulterior motive entrusted to them should he desert.
[hr][/hr]
The sun had waned in the sky and long had Amalian forces fought against the defenders of the fort. With heavy losses on both side prior this last surge neither was well prepared to assault or defend. Despite this the Amalian army had fought their way into the inner wall and now stood affront the main fortifications. Fierre found himself near the East edge of the fort ducking through passageways and under towers with his bodyguards. Rather than openly engaging everyone they met the group simply ran past them and in their hurry were believed to be mercenaries moving as they were told. It helped that a man with non distinguishable colours with bodyguards of similar attire were common in most mercenary troops. Only once had a guard halted Fierre and it ended in a short conflict before Alven slew the guard with his blade. Slumping the body in a corner the group pushed forward. Their aim was through a gateway to reach what would hopefully be the last hold of the forts commander.
[hr][/hr]
As the Amalian army clashed sword against sword with the enemy they began to fight them back from the walls and into the inner courtyard. Blood littered the ground and bodies lay limp and groaning all over. Vanis and his men urged the injured and weak forward and bolstered the mens morale as more and more ground fell beneath their unending onslaught. Soon they reached the center of the fort itself and needed only to dethrone the commander and defeat any straggling forces.
"Clear out the halls! Not a single man left to fight against us!"
Vanis' words were met with a gallant cheer as the battered men and women rallied under his cry followed his bidding. They pushed through the hallways meeting with great resistance in some cases and needing to circumnavigate the prepared defenses. It seemed, at least to the observant soldier, that the forts walls were only stepping stones as inside the building was a maze filled with deathtraps and roundabouts to slowly pick away at enemy forces. This was efficient to say the least as once inside the Amalian forces were cut down to a third of their size. Nevertheless they were determined and soon Vanis stood at the door to the Commander's chambers.
The hinges squealed under the weight of the great wooden doors swinging inwards. Metal clamored and soon twelve men clad from head to toe in armour with swords ready to strike made their way into the room. Vanis followed closely behind and in turn two men dressed in darkly coloured robes; mages. Across the room stood four men and the commander. Three of them carried blades and the fourth a simple book hung at his waist. As Vanis entered his eyes fell on the unarmed man and a scowl writ itself on his face.
"Fierre you damned rat! Step away from him!"
The four threw puzzled looks back to their general. They hadn't expected him to want to muddy his hands with the final blow. Yielding to his authority they did as he said while Fierre bit back his tongue from lashing out.
Stepping slowly forward Vanis stood himself directly ahead of the enemy commander and slammed his hands on the great desk. The two starred at each other in silence for a long while, then Vanis turned and waved a hand towards Fierre and his men. The armour clad men rushed towards them and instinctively the four drew back placing their weapons between them and the knights.
"What in the lords name are you doing Vanis?"
"Damnit Fierre read the situation. I'm tying up loose threads. If you and your men hadn't been here we never would have needed to kill you, but you're so damned determined to prove that your the best man out there."
Vanis turned to face Fierre and took a single step towards him in his anger. Halted by soft words the fort commander stood and addressed the group.
"Boy, what sense is there in winning a castle already ruined? Reinforcements will arrive within the hours and all of your friends and fellows will be dead before the morning. Your general here understands this and has seen fit to... change sides so to speak."
Grinding his teeth Fierre prodded further at Vanis.
"What do you think this will accomplish? Do you really believe King Adravis won't simply send another army to crush your treasonous ass?"
"Not when I've conquered the fort and repelled the reinforcements and asserted myself as new commander. Isn't that right sir."
"You're too stupid to grasp the situation child, stop poking your nose where it's only going to be bitten off."
Realizing that Vanis likely meant to raise in secret a force to assault the king and usurp the throne Fierre looked around the room quickly. Even his friends of years seemed to understand the situation and reluctantly turned inwards towards him.
"Huh, the lot of you want me dead then?" Voice filled with denial Fierre laughed lightly. As he stared Vanis down his denial turned to rage. Clutching the book tied to his waist Fierre touched the spine and let it fly open. His right hand extended upwards and with it flames grew from the floor beneath his feet casting him in an inferno. Growing in size it pushed against the knights and two faced friends he'd known forcing them to step back. The sound of rushing flames made him have to shout to be heard. "There's a goddamn reason I was always on a short leash Vanis and it wasn't because of you!" Lowering his right hand the raging inferno expanded outwards in a great explosion. The two mages stepped into the blast deflecting the bulk of the force away from Vanis, though failing to shield the others. Cries of pain and the scent of searing flesh filled the room. Smoldering bodies fell to the ground nearest Fierre and he took his opportunity.
Dashing through the great wooden doors and past Vanis he escaped the stroke of his sword and retaliated with a blast of fire aimed for his face. Concentrating on the barrier they had enacted around him the mages could do little for their general other than shave away the flames. In the blinding light Fierre saw his only chance, tucked tail and ran.
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Along the eastern border of Amalia fires lit the midnight sky in vibrant hues of orange and yellow. Troves of gray tents were cast in bright light and danced with the shadows of thousands of men and women. Earth had been churned to mud underneath unending feet rushing to and fro transforming the camp into a pit. Anyone that intended to be clean and dry in the morning was a fool and in the opinions of the others too sober. Boisterous laughter resonated from the camp reaching the smaller camps adjacent and stirring the men and women there to join in. On the Eve of Castian's Siege every soldier met in one great final celebration about their generals tent.
"And another thing!"
"No Fierre that's enough."
"No, it In't. Listen."
"Fier-"
"He just sits there. Oooh look at me I'm so respectful and proper. Like shit. The man's lost his head more times 'an me, but I'm the drunk bastard."
"You are drunk Fierre."
"That's not the damned point Alven. He's an ass and he knows it!"
Slamming his drink on the thick table Fierre spilled the brew and stumbled. Fuming he puckered his lips and sunk his head between his shoulders. His brown hair fell around his eyes and he wiped it back with a sweaty hand. About him sat four others, almost at least. Alven, a tall man with a strong beard and bear-like arms. Born in the central farmlands Alven was the strongest of the four friends and their unnamed leader. He had a good ahead about him and an amount of decency the other three lacked. Gallus who was drunk as Fierre and sleeping it off had been around the longest and was living what he told were his glory days. Every night the man was drunk and every morning he was the happiest man, arguably because he was still drunk. Elron was probably the drunkest of three musketeers so to speak that accompanied Fierre. Well built he came from the north and was intelligent, but despised most of his leadership. He always stirred the flames, quite literally with Fierre in most cases.
"Just kick his ass Fierre."
"Elron! Don't tell him to pick a fight with the major you idiot!"
"Damnit Alven we're all going to die tomorrow anyway! Castien isn't going to fall just like it never has. Let him have his day."
The two men fell quiet and their eyes returned to the drinks, then to Fierre. Sucking back the last of his drink he left the empty mug on the table and left. His hands curled and opened and he pushed his way through merry soldiers towards the majors tent. Taller than the rest with ornate yellow and blue crests on the outside it stood at the center of the mud pit. A few steps away Fierre was grabbed under both arms and hauled backwards despite his protests.
"Fierre you dumbass, you may as well drink yourself to death if you're going to try and fight the one sober guy out here tonight."
"He'd run you through mage or not, you know that."
Gritting his teeth Fierre cursed and threw his head back letting cool air rush to his head as his hair swept back. Letting himself be drug to the table Fierre looked to the empty night sky. No wind and no clouds tonight meant the stars would have been brighter than they had in any of the two months they'd been in this cesspool, but the light of the fire was stronger and the night sky was dead instead.
Two months and four days ago to be exact the Castian's Siege began. Though none of the men dubbed it nobles would in the years to come. Castian's Keep was a fort centuries old. Bordering Amalia and Galt it knew war since the day the first stone was laid. Built with five sides and inner and outer walls the fort was considered by most impenetrable. Though this wasn't true the fact of the matter was that in two months the Amalia army had barely managed to capture a section of the outer wall. The terrain leading to the walls was abhorred by all except the defenders as loose stone and uneven ground made footing deadly in some cases. Many had died before even reaching the gates, crushed under the weight of a marching army.
Finally though Amalia had breached the outer wall as three siege towers laid claim to their space along the wall and the gates were opened. The worst of the fighting seemed over as the outer wall presented the greatest danger to capture. Inside roads connected key points and eased the movement of forces. In the same day that the wall had been breached the inner gate was contested between both sides alluding to a swift victory to come. However, not all believed this to be true. Fierre was first among them as he knew that no fort would be so dull as to rely only on outer walls. The fact that they hadn't managed to blockade the fort in over two months also worried some of the to-be tacticians but they meant little to a man who would conquer the unconquerable in the morning.
"He's going to kill us all, and you know it."
"And another thing!"
"No Fierre that's enough."
"No, it In't. Listen."
"Fier-"
"He just sits there. Oooh look at me I'm so respectful and proper. Like shit. The man's lost his head more times 'an me, but I'm the drunk bastard."
"You are drunk Fierre."
"That's not the damned point Alven. He's an ass and he knows it!"
Slamming his drink on the thick table Fierre spilled the brew and stumbled. Fuming he puckered his lips and sunk his head between his shoulders. His brown hair fell around his eyes and he wiped it back with a sweaty hand. About him sat four others, almost at least. Alven, a tall man with a strong beard and bear-like arms. Born in the central farmlands Alven was the strongest of the four friends and their unnamed leader. He had a good ahead about him and an amount of decency the other three lacked. Gallus who was drunk as Fierre and sleeping it off had been around the longest and was living what he told were his glory days. Every night the man was drunk and every morning he was the happiest man, arguably because he was still drunk. Elron was probably the drunkest of three musketeers so to speak that accompanied Fierre. Well built he came from the north and was intelligent, but despised most of his leadership. He always stirred the flames, quite literally with Fierre in most cases.
"Just kick his ass Fierre."
"Elron! Don't tell him to pick a fight with the major you idiot!"
"Damnit Alven we're all going to die tomorrow anyway! Castien isn't going to fall just like it never has. Let him have his day."
The two men fell quiet and their eyes returned to the drinks, then to Fierre. Sucking back the last of his drink he left the empty mug on the table and left. His hands curled and opened and he pushed his way through merry soldiers towards the majors tent. Taller than the rest with ornate yellow and blue crests on the outside it stood at the center of the mud pit. A few steps away Fierre was grabbed under both arms and hauled backwards despite his protests.
"Fierre you dumbass, you may as well drink yourself to death if you're going to try and fight the one sober guy out here tonight."
"He'd run you through mage or not, you know that."
Gritting his teeth Fierre cursed and threw his head back letting cool air rush to his head as his hair swept back. Letting himself be drug to the table Fierre looked to the empty night sky. No wind and no clouds tonight meant the stars would have been brighter than they had in any of the two months they'd been in this cesspool, but the light of the fire was stronger and the night sky was dead instead.
Two months and four days ago to be exact the Castian's Siege began. Though none of the men dubbed it nobles would in the years to come. Castian's Keep was a fort centuries old. Bordering Amalia and Galt it knew war since the day the first stone was laid. Built with five sides and inner and outer walls the fort was considered by most impenetrable. Though this wasn't true the fact of the matter was that in two months the Amalia army had barely managed to capture a section of the outer wall. The terrain leading to the walls was abhorred by all except the defenders as loose stone and uneven ground made footing deadly in some cases. Many had died before even reaching the gates, crushed under the weight of a marching army.
Finally though Amalia had breached the outer wall as three siege towers laid claim to their space along the wall and the gates were opened. The worst of the fighting seemed over as the outer wall presented the greatest danger to capture. Inside roads connected key points and eased the movement of forces. In the same day that the wall had been breached the inner gate was contested between both sides alluding to a swift victory to come. However, not all believed this to be true. Fierre was first among them as he knew that no fort would be so dull as to rely only on outer walls. The fact that they hadn't managed to blockade the fort in over two months also worried some of the to-be tacticians but they meant little to a man who would conquer the unconquerable in the morning.
"He's going to kill us all, and you know it."
Hiya! OOC post. Nifty. Fun. Yup. Alrighty then to the IC.
Damn that was a fast answer. Yeah throw me a PM lets see if we can get something up and going.
Every single damned 1x1 is romance. I don't personally give a damn for it and I don't want to write about it either. Now I realize about 80% of you came in just for the reference, and the other 20% left because this isn't romance. That's fine. If you're still reading though and proved my statistics wrong, I do have something I want to write about. In all seriousness every 1x1 that I see is romance. I want to do a 1x1 not because of that, but because I'd rather only have to rely on a single person whom I know I can contact easily and so I can talk to easy. I don't mean to sound like I'll be down your throat, I just find that with large groups people tend to abandon it more easily. As far as plots go, I've got a pretty damn broad one. I'll be honest if I can get past the romance part damn near anything is going to suit my fancy.
What I do have in mind though is a roleplay surrounding two friends, I don't care about the genders, who were in war together. In fact they still are. They're besieging a castle in my mind right now. Anyway, some stuff will happen, someone with magic might screw some things up(probably me because I'm awful like that) and now they're deserters open to being imprisoned or killed on site. Not a great deal for a would be hero duo. So they run away a little bit and turn tail a few times but live. That's about when I intend the scripted roleplay to stop and for whoever(if someone does) agrees to do a 1x1 that isn't romance.
I'm new to the whole fighting shenanigans so this sounds like an okay place to start it being a school and all. Count me in.
I always thought that when describing the damage the attacker took the initiative and post something open ended describing what the damage could be allowing the defender to rationalize how much they took, assuming the blow connected, or dodge and make the point moot.
I always thought that when describing the damage the attacker took the initiative and post something open ended describing what the damage could be allowing the defender to rationalize how much they took, assuming the blow connected, or dodge and make the point moot.
So today's the deadline I set for characters. Fancy that. There's one completed and one I understand the delay on.
For those of you still interested, or if suddenly even more are interested, I figure I may as well ask whether you want to continue this now or not. Mr_Pink and Catharyn have both told me they're out. So that leaves us at a group of 3 to 4, which is what I wanted in the first place so that's fine.
For those of you still interested, or if suddenly even more are interested, I figure I may as well ask whether you want to continue this now or not. Mr_Pink and Catharyn have both told me they're out. So that leaves us at a group of 3 to 4, which is what I wanted in the first place so that's fine.
Yeah I noticed we took a pretty good spectrum of what to use in combat, but things useful outside of combat are helpful as well. Plus being special is overrated, join in on the melancholy of being white washed. It's fun. I swear.
Hey people are making progress with their characters! Kind of a side note, I'm not going to accept nor deny any characters until the 7th of April. That's the deadline I want for character submissions, because though I'm sure with a month to work on a character it would be an absolute gem I'm also impatient.
TJByrum: No one actually has magic as of the start of the roleplay, it's essentially going to be gifted throughout it at random or by the gods(my) will. If you don't want to throw fireballs that's up to you, but you can't trade no magic for better melee skills just yet.
TJByrum: No one actually has magic as of the start of the roleplay, it's essentially going to be gifted throughout it at random or by the gods(my) will. If you don't want to throw fireballs that's up to you, but you can't trade no magic for better melee skills just yet.
You listen to the wrong people.
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