lol that being said I have another head scratcher. Ok so are the airships helicarrier style ships? are they more like modern aircraft? or are they flying 1500 galleons? Also, the fire power. Are we talking about regular ballistic weapons. Burst weapons or like laser type deals? lol, I guess the lore will just grow.
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Arn held down his head to keep the air exerted from the propellers away from his eyes. It would be a rookie mistake to be out of commission for something as simple as a pebble in the eye. Which was why many of the initiates had to be give goggles prior to their first jump. His combat boots clanged against the non skid walkways of the aircraft. He felt the looks of the crew, some confusion, some disapproval and even some others wonderment. He was a lone red battlemage amongst all the armor and weapons of knights.
He walked by them giving them a look back. His face however showed nothing more than study and memorization. The battlemage had been on similar but different aircraft. They were usually more of a glorified cargo plane than an actual drop ships. This one was meant to house capable crew and fighters. He noticed that it was built for speed, which meant that it would not fare very well against the defensive guns on the Empire’s frigates. This was going to have to be a drop and retract mission. He was starting to wonder what the actual mission was when he heard Tyrhallan dish out orders.
It was interesting to Arn the variations in tones the Knight Captain used. However, having studied some of the psychological book in the Academy’s library, he knew that confidence and assertiveness was necessary to lead soldiers what could possibly be their deaths. He noticed however that some would still freeze up and he had witnessed this himself in battle too. It was said that if you survived your first battle it just got easier from then.
Arn did not know just how accurate this statement was but it seemed to give the young recruits something to hold onto while all chaos broke around them. Indeed, even now the battlemage was starting to feel the adrenalin start to pump in expectation of the mission.
It was during these quick musings that the Knight Captain addressed him by name and his eyes met the man’s. While his eyes did not fog with thoughts of battle and glory, Arn could appreciate why the Tyrhallan’s men where so moved after his speeches. There was something in his words that behest you to comply with his requests. The battlemage merely nodded as the plan was laid out but he was taken aback by the simpleness of it. Here is where the Knight Captain made showed his true tactical genius.
The next part is what took the red battlemage aback. He was not one for pleasantries and he was most definitely a noble or someone of importance. Only the few brave youngsters of his own squad who did not know him would use his rank. Most just called him Arn or Hellspawn. The way that Tyrhallan addressed him cause him to frow his brow in confusion. So taken aback was he that all he could do was shake his head but the words that me meant to say never came out.
He looked at the stone place on his hand with even more confusion. He had heard about these. Tokes that nobles bestow upon those who ear their trust and favor. The commoners called them “boon Stones” and were often the items of local legends that happened to someone if their family long ago or the explanation why a common person had suddenly found success and luck.
In his hand however, it seemed less the golden egg of legend but actually a memorial. Unbeknownst to others, Arn had collected a token from any mage he had dropped into battle with that had not made it. While he would not call it shrine, he kept them as totems and used it when he worked this magic. He would unconsciously call out their names as he manipulated the Aether.
When he finally found his voice he said in a less monotonic voice. “Knight Captain, I will ensure to return this to you upon our completion of the mission. Please be at east that I will do my part regales of the cost.” He the did something that extremely few had ever seen and he bowed his head a few inches in respect. With that he looked out the windows of the aircraft seeing the storm clouds nearer and noticing them being stitched with sparks of lightning.
He walked by them giving them a look back. His face however showed nothing more than study and memorization. The battlemage had been on similar but different aircraft. They were usually more of a glorified cargo plane than an actual drop ships. This one was meant to house capable crew and fighters. He noticed that it was built for speed, which meant that it would not fare very well against the defensive guns on the Empire’s frigates. This was going to have to be a drop and retract mission. He was starting to wonder what the actual mission was when he heard Tyrhallan dish out orders.
It was interesting to Arn the variations in tones the Knight Captain used. However, having studied some of the psychological book in the Academy’s library, he knew that confidence and assertiveness was necessary to lead soldiers what could possibly be their deaths. He noticed however that some would still freeze up and he had witnessed this himself in battle too. It was said that if you survived your first battle it just got easier from then.
Arn did not know just how accurate this statement was but it seemed to give the young recruits something to hold onto while all chaos broke around them. Indeed, even now the battlemage was starting to feel the adrenalin start to pump in expectation of the mission.
It was during these quick musings that the Knight Captain addressed him by name and his eyes met the man’s. While his eyes did not fog with thoughts of battle and glory, Arn could appreciate why the Tyrhallan’s men where so moved after his speeches. There was something in his words that behest you to comply with his requests. The battlemage merely nodded as the plan was laid out but he was taken aback by the simpleness of it. Here is where the Knight Captain made showed his true tactical genius.
The next part is what took the red battlemage aback. He was not one for pleasantries and he was most definitely a noble or someone of importance. Only the few brave youngsters of his own squad who did not know him would use his rank. Most just called him Arn or Hellspawn. The way that Tyrhallan addressed him cause him to frow his brow in confusion. So taken aback was he that all he could do was shake his head but the words that me meant to say never came out.
He looked at the stone place on his hand with even more confusion. He had heard about these. Tokes that nobles bestow upon those who ear their trust and favor. The commoners called them “boon Stones” and were often the items of local legends that happened to someone if their family long ago or the explanation why a common person had suddenly found success and luck.
In his hand however, it seemed less the golden egg of legend but actually a memorial. Unbeknownst to others, Arn had collected a token from any mage he had dropped into battle with that had not made it. While he would not call it shrine, he kept them as totems and used it when he worked this magic. He would unconsciously call out their names as he manipulated the Aether.
When he finally found his voice he said in a less monotonic voice. “Knight Captain, I will ensure to return this to you upon our completion of the mission. Please be at east that I will do my part regales of the cost.” He the did something that extremely few had ever seen and he bowed his head a few inches in respect. With that he looked out the windows of the aircraft seeing the storm clouds nearer and noticing them being stitched with sparks of lightning.
@deia876lat He only hates that he did not act sooner because he was a coward and had too much "feelings" i.e wanted friends family etc. He sees himself as a weapon who only exists. Of course those he sees as evil and last time I checked the Empire is not very good in terms of humanitarian deeds. Does that help?
He actually sees his casting as a way to connect with his mother who is now part of gia.
He actually sees his casting as a way to connect with his mother who is now part of gia.
Arn did not to rely on his tactical and mage training to let him know what the news entailed. He had seen this scene played out many times. It seemed that such news always arrived at the exact moment that soldiers least wanted them. Why could the not come when everyone was fired up for battle and in full battle gear? No they came when men were leisure-ing about. This meant that the squad leaders and other officers had to gather them like scattered kittens and re focus them into tigers and lions.
The battlemage however, was an old veteran He knew that one needed to strike hard and strike fast. That would get the wheels of battle in motion and those who remembered and abided by their training would survive and make the wheel that much more efficient. He did not even care to listen to the rest of the message as he made his way to were his gear lay. With an efficient and practiced manner he un hooked his red tinged battle vest and swung it over his head. It rested snug as he secured the claps. His bare arms free of the sleeves that all battlemages wore to signify rank. This was the reason many confused him with a novice or apprentice. Few knew that he was actually just below if not a master already.
Arn verified his Daisho was secured and made his way back. There was a ripple as the news made its way to the corners of the host gathered on the hill top. He caught bits of it as he made his way back. Some from his battalion had seen him gear up and those who had been in battle with him before moved to do the same. They knew that Arn thought himself as a weapon no different that the blades at his waist. They also knew that one does not harness a sword unless there is some need for it.
He got back in time to listen to the last notes of what had been no doubt a rousing speech if the mood of the knights that were now mobilizing was any clue. He did not care much for such things. What he did care was what the captain did next. He efficiently directed his troops. The smoothness at which his knights operated and carried out his orders was a testament to Tyrhallan’s own leadership style.
The usually expressionless Arn flared his eyes in amazement. The knight captain had requested he and the Spider come with him. Under normal circumstances the battlemage would have respectfully refused as his Lieutenant would have to be the ones giving out the orders. However, he was intrigued by both these men. He had seen just a glimpse of their skills in their duel. Arn wanted to see these skills in the heat of battle.
This desire was nothing so base as to witness brutal carnage.. As a man who thought of himself as nothing more of a weapon, it would be great to see two masters of the craft wielding theirs.
Arn shrugged his acknowledgement of the request/order from the silver haired knight. “Very well, if I can be of assistance I will follow you.” His tone did not betray his inner musings. He partly turned to a younger battle mage who had approached him after he had seen Arn gear up. “Tobi, please let the Captain know that I will be accompanying Knight Captain Tyrhallan on….on second thought, tell him you have not seen me if he asks.” The younger battlemage gave him a smirk. Arn shook his head as if denying the unspoken thoughts in the young one’s mind. “I just don’t see the point of both of us getting a lecture prior to the battle. I will deal with the aftermath when I return.”
With that the young one took off at a trot towards the line of gear where the rest of the battlemages had now gathered to don on gear. Arn followed the young figure for a second or two and then turned to both knights. “I am at your disposal and am ready to depart as you wish.”
Ok, I am not as quick on my posting as you but I will try to get something up as quickly as I can.
@TheMerlin@deia876lat are you both DMing or was that just world building etc? Also, does tryhallan basically have tactical command hence his ability to just pull Arn into this operation? Not that I care was just wondering so I can build my reply
The blades sang the deadly song that was being danced upon by the two knights. Hard to say if the song was the lead or if the dance was what composed the song of steel upon steel. However, the fact that there was death in each and every strike was not debated. The rings were echoed by shouts and groans from the spectators. Obviously the fighting pair each had a following. So entranced where the spectators that they seemed to almost be blind to the obvious danger of being so close to skilled and probably honorable killers but killers none the less.
The thought had barely been processed in his mind when the ground took the attack meant for the Knight Captain. Dirt and grass covered the shins and thighs of the spectators closest to the action. Arn gave thanks that it was not blood and sinew instead. He figured that as the arbiter it was his job to ensure the safety of those in the immediate area.
The battle mage grunted disapprovingly at the recklessness of Dalmer as his new strike was now aimed at the Captain's chest. While there was perhaps no doubt the Captain could handle himself, such reckless abandon was not befitting a duel. Still, both knew the risk and they had accepted it. Arn's immediate concern was protecting the soldiers who were definitely not in any way able to evade such attacks.
He would have to put up walls around the pair, who knew how long and how heated the battle would get. He concentrated on the Aether, an outline around him beginning to appear. A few soldiers around him stepped away from him in caution.
However, before he was able to utilize his connection to Gia and by sheer force cause the ground to rise putting up walls around the dueling knights a different sound from the cheers and metal against metal could be heard. The whirl of propeller and the sudden gust of downdraft cause not only the spectators but the fighters to diver their eyes to the interrupting drop ship. Apparently, a message requested the attention of the Captain. Arn had no doubt that Leo would be upset. He pitied any adversary the young Knight might encounter on who he could relieve his frustration and having been so rudely denied further pleasure in fighting a man of the Captain's caliber.
The thought had barely been processed in his mind when the ground took the attack meant for the Knight Captain. Dirt and grass covered the shins and thighs of the spectators closest to the action. Arn gave thanks that it was not blood and sinew instead. He figured that as the arbiter it was his job to ensure the safety of those in the immediate area.
The battle mage grunted disapprovingly at the recklessness of Dalmer as his new strike was now aimed at the Captain's chest. While there was perhaps no doubt the Captain could handle himself, such reckless abandon was not befitting a duel. Still, both knew the risk and they had accepted it. Arn's immediate concern was protecting the soldiers who were definitely not in any way able to evade such attacks.
He would have to put up walls around the pair, who knew how long and how heated the battle would get. He concentrated on the Aether, an outline around him beginning to appear. A few soldiers around him stepped away from him in caution.
However, before he was able to utilize his connection to Gia and by sheer force cause the ground to rise putting up walls around the dueling knights a different sound from the cheers and metal against metal could be heard. The whirl of propeller and the sudden gust of downdraft cause not only the spectators but the fighters to diver their eyes to the interrupting drop ship. Apparently, a message requested the attention of the Captain. Arn had no doubt that Leo would be upset. He pitied any adversary the young Knight might encounter on who he could relieve his frustration and having been so rudely denied further pleasure in fighting a man of the Captain's caliber.
Posted, and also moved my Character Sheet to the appropriate tab. Apparently, I had not done so. I wanted to see what Shields I could use and it turns out I just have two :(. I guess I have to work on getting more shields lol.
Fer saved his breath instead of trying to answer the obvious taunt sent by the guy who had managed to be lucky enough to just miss his knee being cracked by the point of the small kite shield. Expecting a downward strike Fer presented the shield to the attacking axe. He reached up to grab the man by the fore arm and planting his feet, he rose forcefully using his right shoulder as a pivot point, he used his enhanced strength to throw the man to the ground.
The motion of the man's body sailing through the air would break up the small crowd that was gathering around Auriel and him. If he was successful, Fer would follow up with a downward blow with the edge of his shield against the man's wind pipe. If his throw as not successful, he would attempt to at least unbalance the man and with a side ways kick disrupt him further hopefully knowing the bandit to the ground.
He would then move to Auriel's back and block any sort of attack that would come from that side. He would call back to her without loosing sight of the attacking me. "Lady, may I have this dance? I block you strike?" the plan again was simple, he had performed the same technique with Cole. He would bock the attack and spin to let the winged warrior's spear take advantage of the opening and strike. The constant motion would glint off any strikes and would prevent the attacking group from overwhelming them.
The young Shield Hero felt a surge of energy and a feeling that could only be describe as happy. He had fought many battles before and while he had care for the lives of the people with him, he had never felt any closeness to them. Yet here, today, he wanted nothing more than to protect Auriel and Cole and at the same time be of use to them to achieve victory.
He held his shield ready and as if to embody what he was feeling, the green gem flashed warningly towards any would be attackers. He half smiled/half snarled at the bandits. "Step right up gentlemen, I think my friend here has something for you." Then in a joking manner that seemed to be an outlet for how dire the situation was yelled out. "Cole, when you are done playing we could use your help in taking out your share of the trash"
The motion of the man's body sailing through the air would break up the small crowd that was gathering around Auriel and him. If he was successful, Fer would follow up with a downward blow with the edge of his shield against the man's wind pipe. If his throw as not successful, he would attempt to at least unbalance the man and with a side ways kick disrupt him further hopefully knowing the bandit to the ground.
He would then move to Auriel's back and block any sort of attack that would come from that side. He would call back to her without loosing sight of the attacking me. "Lady, may I have this dance? I block you strike?" the plan again was simple, he had performed the same technique with Cole. He would bock the attack and spin to let the winged warrior's spear take advantage of the opening and strike. The constant motion would glint off any strikes and would prevent the attacking group from overwhelming them.
The young Shield Hero felt a surge of energy and a feeling that could only be describe as happy. He had fought many battles before and while he had care for the lives of the people with him, he had never felt any closeness to them. Yet here, today, he wanted nothing more than to protect Auriel and Cole and at the same time be of use to them to achieve victory.
He held his shield ready and as if to embody what he was feeling, the green gem flashed warningly towards any would be attackers. He half smiled/half snarled at the bandits. "Step right up gentlemen, I think my friend here has something for you." Then in a joking manner that seemed to be an outlet for how dire the situation was yelled out. "Cole, when you are done playing we could use your help in taking out your share of the trash"
Name: Fernando Gutierrez
Nicknames:Fer
Age:21
Gender:Male
Level: 1
Class: Shield Hero
Hero Class: Shield
Specializations: Survival Training, Languages, Tactical Training,
Magic Affinity: Wind
Appearance: Tan skinned with Knife cut hair down to his shoulders. He has brown eyes and a curved hawk like nose. He stands 5'7" and weighs about 180 lbs. He has many scars on his body and his clothes are ragged and worn. He has a quiet attitude and talks very little. But when he talks he has a sort of tenor voice that is a bit raspy from lack of use. He unknowingly has a protective spirit and has on many occasions helped a person but he tries very hard to seem indifferent. He has no qualms about getting his hands dirty but only resorts to violence when necessary.
Biography: Fer is from a war torn country in the South American Continent in the early 1980s. Living in the harsh rural mountains, made him a hardy young lad. When the guerrillas started abducting children he was unfortunate to have been trapping when his younger brother was taken, his father and mother butchered and his younger sister abducted probably to be sold as a slave. Fer tracked down and joined one of the guerillas. His aim was to find his siblings and exact revenge, on whoever he could, from within. He endured harsh and violent conditions. He learned to use conventional and fabricated weapons. His trapping skills eventually earned him a place as a tracker and forager. All the while his goal was to find his siblings.
By luck or providence, he was able to discover that his poor brother had not survived the harsh living conditions of jungle and a boy soldier. It had been many years and he felt that he had failed his siblings, his parents and justice. He was contemplating ending it all when on his way back to camp he heard a cry of despair and pain.
He followed the sound and happened upon a very common scene of four or five guys surrounding the poor body of girl from where the sound had emerged. He was about to turn away when one of the young men parted and he saw the dirty and tear streaked face of his sister. Rage and pain clouded his emotions as he deftly loaded his old pump action riffle. Despite the emotional storm going on in his soul, Fer managed to quickly and accurately send two bullets bursting into his intended targets. He did not even stop to assess the damage when a quick reaction from one of the remaining three young men reached for the riffle. Far let the riffle be torn from his grasp but his hand immediately pulled the hunting knife he wore on his waist and plunged it deep under the ribs of the attacker who slumped to the ground after a gasp of surprise. The one that had been assaulting the young girl had succeeded in punting on his pants and stood up just as the other lad managed to close in combat with Fer and knock him to the ground trying to pry the knife from his grasp. Fer reached up with his other hand pulled the lad’s hair towards his face and bit hard into his neck until he felt the metal taste of blood. A yell of pain from the wounded neck which was spurting in a rhythmic fashion.
Before he could get to his feet he felt a sharp pain on the left side of his head. He fell to the side trying to fight off confusion and a nausea. Before he could recover he felt the weight of a sweaty body on his and rancid breath near his nose as the last attacker fell onto him striking with his hands. Adrenalin and desperation made both defender and attacker inaccurate in their scuffle. Somehow, the attacker’s hand happened upon the hunter knife that had been dropped. He raised the knife and brought it down upon the raised arm of Fer who had appempted to protect himself. The blade plunged deep into the left forearm and scrapped bone protruding from the other side. The lad used his weight and pushed down forcing the blade slowly down. It was a life and death struggle. The blade was dangerously close to Fer’s neck when a shot rang out. While the weight remained on him, it was dead limp weight. Blood started to drip from a hole on the side of the face of the attacker and Fer pushed the dead body off him, the effort causing him to almost pass out from the pain in his left forearm.
A crying girl rushed to his side. “FER!” the girl said between sobs. Fer propped himself on his knees, the Adrenalin slowly leaving his body and giving way to pain and nausea. He still managed to hug the young girl and say her name through bloodied and busted lips. “Rosa, please forgive me!” He added his sobs to hers as they held each other surrounded by a grim collection of bodies darkening the earth and pooling blood.
Five days later found Fer and Rosa in a rural train station headed towards town. They wanted to leave so much grief and pain behind. Perhaps even one day make it to America. They had somehow made it down the mountain to a village where they had found good people who patched up Fer and helped them find a ride to the rural town. They bought passage with the selling of the equipment and cash found on the dead bodies of the assailants. It seemed like their bloody past was behind them. There had been no signs of pursuit and nobody would even know who was missing or who had attacked with so many rival guerrillas in the area. While they waited, Fer's gaze fell on the odd and eclectic offerings of a merchant. It was a worn book. Fer smiled, his younger brother had loved books. He had been the smart one in the family. Fer knew how to read of course but had not envisioned a life outside farming the land like his father. He knelled and for 5 pesos bought the book. He was on his way back to Rosa and the approaching train.
In an instant, there was a bright flash of light which all but blinded the young man. When his vision returned and the spots dissipated, he was standing in a stone walled room.
---
Preferred Weapon(s): Shield, (proficient in fire arms , bows and knives)
Appearance of Weapon: Dependent on the ability being used but at rest it looks more like a solid metal bracer with a jewel on the center of it.
Abilities of Weapon: (if applicable)
Nicknames:Fer
Age:21
Gender:Male
Level: 1
Class: Shield Hero
Hero Class: Shield
Specializations: Survival Training, Languages, Tactical Training,
Magic Affinity: Wind
Appearance: Tan skinned with Knife cut hair down to his shoulders. He has brown eyes and a curved hawk like nose. He stands 5'7" and weighs about 180 lbs. He has many scars on his body and his clothes are ragged and worn. He has a quiet attitude and talks very little. But when he talks he has a sort of tenor voice that is a bit raspy from lack of use. He unknowingly has a protective spirit and has on many occasions helped a person but he tries very hard to seem indifferent. He has no qualms about getting his hands dirty but only resorts to violence when necessary.
Biography: Fer is from a war torn country in the South American Continent in the early 1980s. Living in the harsh rural mountains, made him a hardy young lad. When the guerrillas started abducting children he was unfortunate to have been trapping when his younger brother was taken, his father and mother butchered and his younger sister abducted probably to be sold as a slave. Fer tracked down and joined one of the guerillas. His aim was to find his siblings and exact revenge, on whoever he could, from within. He endured harsh and violent conditions. He learned to use conventional and fabricated weapons. His trapping skills eventually earned him a place as a tracker and forager. All the while his goal was to find his siblings.
By luck or providence, he was able to discover that his poor brother had not survived the harsh living conditions of jungle and a boy soldier. It had been many years and he felt that he had failed his siblings, his parents and justice. He was contemplating ending it all when on his way back to camp he heard a cry of despair and pain.
He followed the sound and happened upon a very common scene of four or five guys surrounding the poor body of girl from where the sound had emerged. He was about to turn away when one of the young men parted and he saw the dirty and tear streaked face of his sister. Rage and pain clouded his emotions as he deftly loaded his old pump action riffle. Despite the emotional storm going on in his soul, Fer managed to quickly and accurately send two bullets bursting into his intended targets. He did not even stop to assess the damage when a quick reaction from one of the remaining three young men reached for the riffle. Far let the riffle be torn from his grasp but his hand immediately pulled the hunting knife he wore on his waist and plunged it deep under the ribs of the attacker who slumped to the ground after a gasp of surprise. The one that had been assaulting the young girl had succeeded in punting on his pants and stood up just as the other lad managed to close in combat with Fer and knock him to the ground trying to pry the knife from his grasp. Fer reached up with his other hand pulled the lad’s hair towards his face and bit hard into his neck until he felt the metal taste of blood. A yell of pain from the wounded neck which was spurting in a rhythmic fashion.
Before he could get to his feet he felt a sharp pain on the left side of his head. He fell to the side trying to fight off confusion and a nausea. Before he could recover he felt the weight of a sweaty body on his and rancid breath near his nose as the last attacker fell onto him striking with his hands. Adrenalin and desperation made both defender and attacker inaccurate in their scuffle. Somehow, the attacker’s hand happened upon the hunter knife that had been dropped. He raised the knife and brought it down upon the raised arm of Fer who had appempted to protect himself. The blade plunged deep into the left forearm and scrapped bone protruding from the other side. The lad used his weight and pushed down forcing the blade slowly down. It was a life and death struggle. The blade was dangerously close to Fer’s neck when a shot rang out. While the weight remained on him, it was dead limp weight. Blood started to drip from a hole on the side of the face of the attacker and Fer pushed the dead body off him, the effort causing him to almost pass out from the pain in his left forearm.
A crying girl rushed to his side. “FER!” the girl said between sobs. Fer propped himself on his knees, the Adrenalin slowly leaving his body and giving way to pain and nausea. He still managed to hug the young girl and say her name through bloodied and busted lips. “Rosa, please forgive me!” He added his sobs to hers as they held each other surrounded by a grim collection of bodies darkening the earth and pooling blood.
Five days later found Fer and Rosa in a rural train station headed towards town. They wanted to leave so much grief and pain behind. Perhaps even one day make it to America. They had somehow made it down the mountain to a village where they had found good people who patched up Fer and helped them find a ride to the rural town. They bought passage with the selling of the equipment and cash found on the dead bodies of the assailants. It seemed like their bloody past was behind them. There had been no signs of pursuit and nobody would even know who was missing or who had attacked with so many rival guerrillas in the area. While they waited, Fer's gaze fell on the odd and eclectic offerings of a merchant. It was a worn book. Fer smiled, his younger brother had loved books. He had been the smart one in the family. Fer knew how to read of course but had not envisioned a life outside farming the land like his father. He knelled and for 5 pesos bought the book. He was on his way back to Rosa and the approaching train.
In an instant, there was a bright flash of light which all but blinded the young man. When his vision returned and the spots dissipated, he was standing in a stone walled room.
---
Preferred Weapon(s): Shield, (proficient in fire arms , bows and knives)
Appearance of Weapon: Dependent on the ability being used but at rest it looks more like a solid metal bracer with a jewel on the center of it.
Abilities of Weapon: (if applicable)
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