Partisan

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

@Renny Feel free to post it in the bin, I'll add you to the list tomorrow after I've had my rest and shower before I go to school.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

That's good. I had intended for religion to be important in this RP, so having a character hate a religion/people is good. Racism is big in medieval times. :p

Gregar didn't really remove her, he just claimed his birthright (depending on who you ask, he's a bastard after all) and the queen was happy b/c no blood shed and her daughter on the throne. Amazing. :p

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

There we go. I hope this lasts for now until friday next week. At the very least, your characters can mingle and become the bestest of friends! Or they can fight and die. That's up to you. I won't make a promise for further posts ICly but I might be able to. No promise again.

I also updated the character list on the char tab. Make sure to read it and let me know if you want it changed.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Marches of Man

“Those with blue blood survive the ages, and those that ensure that they do, die in the mud.”

---

For a while the kingdom of Broacien had been calm - the king, Gregar Balin Grochain had bartered a temporary peace treaty with Cherwin, in name of the lord of the Witches Crest. As such the west was calm, as was the east. In the south, redsand and it's mighty castle Coedwin stood strong against the Sultan's forces, who hadn't been seen in a few years. Never the less the threat remained. As for the north, the answer was simple; the tribes were always at war and there was always coin to be made out of that. The arms trade with the north continued as it always has, despite lady Aren's, otherwise known as the Winters Wife, calls to stop feeding the bloodshed. More recently, there has been talk of a tribal sympathist amongst the Broacienian royals. Not something that would interrupt the calmth, but something that was to be kept in mind by the nobles and other high ups who wished to further their influence.

However, in Broacien there is never much time for calmth and peace - almost as soon as the temporary peace had been signed, Cherwinian brigands crossed the border into Murkran territories and started attacking boats sailing down the Pentol river. Normally they'd be dealt with by Broacienian forces adequately, meaning the brigands would be hunted down and executed on the spot, save the leaders who would be brought to the Hoffburgt to face judgement from the king himself. However an untimely Cherwinian intervention on behalf of their king, Rechwan. Two companies of the Cherwinian army crossed the many many Murkran rivers and met with the brigands, whilst simultaneously the two companies sent by king Gregar did the same. Ultimately the two armies clashed with the brigands joining the ranks of the Cherwinian army.

The battle of Priscen Cross, named after the crossing in two small rivers where the battle took place, was a bloody and long battle. Cherwinian forces seemed to dwindle but at the last moment a detachement of knights arrived and charged the ranks of the Broacienian soldiers, shattering the ranks and forcing them on the retreat. The results of this amounted to a slaughter on the Broacienian sides, with barely any men surviving. The few that did were either taken captive or managed to escape to the Hoffburgt. An unofficial record from the Cherwinian forces say that there were atleast 400 men captured, and over 3000 dead. An offer to buy back the prisoners, a welcome offer at this point in time with a decrease in manpower, has yet to be extended by king Rechwan. It seems that the peace lasted barely 30 days before the Cherwinians broke it.

“My king, you summoned me?” a harsh, old sounding voice said. It was clearly the voice of a man that wasn't too old, but had seen his share of life and was most definetely experienced and well versed in how to live it. In the throne, king Gregar was seated, looking down on his hall from the raised plateau where the throne with the stags antlers was placed. The hall was filled with people, easily in the ranges of a hundred people if not more. They were from all breeds and profesions, from old noble men to young knights looking to prove their worth, to young noblewomen to the lowly servants. They all looked attentively to the front, where an old bald man was kneeling with his head bowed down low. “Yes, Terryn Hoffmann, I summoned you.”

In response the bald headed man, named Terryn, looked up at the king with a questioning expression. The king raised his voice again, which bounced off the walls of the hall effortlessly. The hall consisted of stone walls and similar flooring, with six large pillars lining the hall. There were three on each side, supporting the balconies on the second level. On the second level there were also people, looking down on the ordeal. It had been a long time since the king had held an open audience. They intended to profit from the occasion.

“What would you wish of me, my king?” the old man asked his king, who bowed his head in thought. A silence befell the hall before the king spoke up. “You were at the battle of Priscen Cross, correct?” The old man remained silent but nodded his head at the king. Aye, he had been there. A sad day for Broacien, but they would recover. “Tell me what happened there, that day, Terryn.” The old man bowed his head and answered with a silent “Yes, milord.” Slowly he began raising from his knees, his bones cracking ever so slightly as he raised himself from the uncomfortable position. The greatsword on his back swayed slightly as he finally stood straight again. “It was a massacre, my king.” Terryn started, a simple, short answer that anyone in the room would understand. But no doubt they already knew this fact. They were looking for details. Heroic stories of last stands, of knights taking down a famous knight before their deaths. Sadly, there would be no such tales. The Cherwinian death toll had barely broken 500, before the ranks broke.

“The day started early. We marched from the Witches' Crest towards the brigands hiding spot, near the Priscen Cross. It was around noon when our commander, lord Hamel, warned us of incoming foreign troops. He didn't anticipate an attack however. I'm sure the Cherwinians didn't either. As far as they knew they were clearing out a brigand infestation.” The tale was the truth, which could be heard in Terryn's tale. There was no tremble, no holding back in his voice. It all spilled from his lips in a solid gush of truths. It was either that, or Terryn was a trained liar. The scars on his face led many to believe the former, however.

“When we engaged the brigands, they had joined ranks with the Cherwinians. It seemed there had been some under the table dealing between our first meeting and the moment of our attack. We held the line, barely, and inflicted damage. That's when the enemy lord Peryl appeared on the horizon with a count of 50 knights, give or take. They ran down and ran into our center, shattering it with a single charge opening the way for their infantry. We were cut down like dogs. Before our lord could sound the horn of retreat, he was cut down. Those that had survived that long either surrendered or held their breath and hid in the swamps for the time being, pretending to be dead.” A gasp, a whince of terror, it was all that went through the hall in that moment of silence. A glass falling, shattering on the stone floor. In that moment all eyes were pointed at Terryn, even the king's. And for a moment, it felt like the king was a comrade, and not a king. But Terryn knew that feeling to be false, as he had felt it before.

“I am sorry my king. Did you wish me to deliver news of deeds heroic and mighty? I am afraid I cannot tell you tales that are untrue. The men that fought there died fighting. That is about all I can say.” The king nodded slowly, understandingly, and waved the comment away with his right hand. After doing so he would grip his chin and stroke his beard slowly, deep in thought.

“No harm done, Terryn. I have an order for you. I'll place you under the command of lord Maryn Tyerin. You will be second-in-command of the Black Shields. You shall begin recruitment within the week.” Terryn almost looked like he hadn't understood, as he stood there gawking at the king like a lowly peasant who had just heard he'd be receiving a year worth of beer for free. Slowly his mouth opened. “M-my king..” Terryn dropped to his knees again and bowed his head, deep and low. “My thanks, your grace!”

---

A Week Later

It was raining, and had been raining almost all day. The ground was muddy, making the encampment of Rot Donar almost unwalkable. The camp was relatively small, barely fitting 65 tents, with a large circular tent at the center of it. The Commanders Tent as the noblemen called it, the Executioners Home as the peasants called it. There was some disdain amongst the militias and would-be soldiers that arrived in the camp against the commanders. It was only natural, they would be dying or living at the hands of these men. Their trust had to be earned.

In front of the Commanders Tent, under the small covered area near the tent's approach, was a table with a chair behind it. On the table was an oil lamp, a book and a quill and some inkpots. Inside the books there were numerous names scribbled, or sometimes a simple X. Many of the lower born people could not write, and as such an X had to suffice. A wooden walkway led from the camp's entrance, through the palisade, towards the tent. It would be the primary signing up point, and as such Terryn was sitting behind the table with his greatsword resting against it on his left. He looked bored or intrigued, which were in his case mostly the same expressions. He enjoyed watching the crowd come and go, however, as each person was interesting. He liked to play a game where he estimated how long people would survive in battle - something he'd become quite good at. For some cases he'd tell them during their sign up and offer them a bet that if they lasted longer than the days he told them, he'd give them a small prize in the form of a bag of coins. Money was worthless when you were on the move moving from battle to battle anyway, so he might as well have fun with it.

Besides recruits, he was also busy dealing with the various camp followers, whores, cooks, salesmen and women, hunters and others that followed a warband around hoping to make a sale or two. Furthermore he was also dealing with shady slave traders, that had been looking to sell slaves for a bargain in order to lose their last few slaves. The slaves were always happy to be sold to a warband as they'd probably be busy cooking or moving boxes around. An easy life when compared to those that got sold to fishermen, who had to row boats all day. Or even those sold to lords. You'd never know what you had to do when sold to a lord or lady. There were even some tales of a lady that bought slaves to use as sex objects - only to be discarded a week later. An expensive hobby, Terryn thought to himself. He wouldn't mind having that hobby if he could afford it however. A new slave girl every week? Pleasure. Except Terryn probably couldn't discard them. He was much too kind to women to do that. They'd probably end up taking most of his money just to afford their upkeep.. perhaps it was better Terryn wasn't rich.

“NEXT.” he yelled at the line in front of him. He just hoped the line would move along more swiftly than this, or else he'd have to halt his little game and place a man at arms on the chair to do the signups.

---

At The Hoffburgt

“Father, mother.” a young male voice said. Anyone familiar with the royal family would be able to discern that it was Dorran, the King's Heir. There were rumours of him being in the east, visiting a castle near the mountain to look for a suitable bride. A feminine voice answered the boy, “Dorran, how good to see you. How was your travel? Did the rain bother you much?” No reply, only a shake of the head. The king's voice now spoke up. “Enough about the rain. Did you like lady Elysa?”

Dorran hesitated to answer, and through doing so, made his father and mother realize the answer before hand. “She has an interesting personality. She.. begged me to show me her collection of male servants. I have a hard time believing you didn't know of this before hand, father.” His father grinned and put his head in his hands, leaning on them with his forehead. “I had hoped she wasn't as bad as she was years ago when I first met her. I suppose she got worse. Perhaps I should stop sending you around.”

Doran let loose a relieved sigh. No more travelling.. wonderful. “I will hold a feast and invite many lords and their daughters and sons. Perhaps you will find someone you like, then. She will be the future queen after all.” his father continued, indicating that his sigh had come too early. Never the less it was better than travelling through the rain, Dorran supposed. And feasts were.. fun? “Very well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to go visit Catarina.”

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

fuk u

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

@Angel Eyes I am the literal embodiment of Yamato. I am angry as hell 24/7 for no reason what so ever. Do not test me.

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

Yes, because Paneru, Shin and Jaakuna are totally capable of taking down 50+ shinobi each.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Heh. Thanks. I should be done friday next week, but I have to help little kids at the karate exam (the pleasures of being a black belt I s'pose.) so I might not be able to post right away.

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

Maybe if she wore less nude clothes? :p

I'm not sure. I'll contact you later about an idea I have. Please stand by. KGKK.

NARUTO: Road to Ninja [ARC 3] Buy it now and get a second punt free!

Ayame Choko, “the Sewstress”

---

Keeping up the pace, she didn't bat an eye as someone questioned her plan. It was the redhead, the Naito boy. “Let's establish some ground rules. First. You are free to suggest, but not free to question. I am the Jonin, so do as I say. You are chunin now. You know that you must follow orders even if you don't like them.” She didn't even bat an eye as she spoke to the Naito boy, and the whole group in the same breath. She understood what Daiki was getting it - he didn't like the plan. It was natural for a chunin to feel this way, as she herself had experienced it too. A critical mind was good, as long as you don't question other people's skills. She jumped to the next treebranch easily while continueing what she was saying. “Second. You will not doubt me, or any other member of the team. I have been the Hokage's assistant for some time now and, unknown to you, I have read all the reports of your missions. I have seen you all in action from the shadows. I know what you can - and can't do.”

Another jump followed as she jumped further and further to pick up the speed. They'd have to reach the Kannabi bridge in time or the mission would be lost - unlike Tsukiko, Ayame only had a basic chakra sensing technique, and no tracking skills. She'd have to work hard to catch up to the target if he'd escape their first point of contact. “To answer your question, Daiki. I don't miss. As such, we also don't need a plan B if you guys do your jobs.. as for the samurai..” She let a silence fall over the forest as the only sound to be heard was the rapid jumping from branch to branch of the team. It was obvious that Ayame was contemplating whether to tell them the whole story. It was a bit of a touchy subject, so naturally they'd need to understand it well, or not at all.

“The Samurai are upset that local Yakuza clans have taken in ronin, who the samurai consider to be the epitome of trash. Konoha has some large Yakuza presences, and the samurai criticise us for not putting a stop to them. Besides, they are the only 'large' nation that is not part of the Shinobi Allied Forces. We need their acceptance if we wish to remain on friendly terms with them. This is a chance for us.” she concluded. There was more to it that she wouldn't be allowed to say, and these were really the basics of the entire conflict. Sentou spoke up, with the characteristical way of speaking. It was slightly offputting how non serious Sentou could be on sensitive missions like these. Sentou went on about backup and Ayame simply listened, but didn't reply. There would be no backup today, as the ronin wasn't a particularily strong ronin. The fact that they had assembled a team for this mission was more because of the political nature of it. They would not tolerate any screw ups and interventions in this mission if Iwagakure or Kumogakure decided they wanted the honours of taking the ronin captive.

“We won't be needing backup. The rendezvous points for the other teams are all at Kannabi bridge where we will meet up with the other teams and then head for the village hidden in Swords. The Granite Guard are of no concern to us. We don't have jurisdiction but we are allowed to trail targets into Iwagakure territory if the mission demands it. I expect no interference. Aside, you will not use the coins. It would require setting up a trap, and I just explained we will simply wear him down while my poison does it's work. After that we simply trail him, block his path and incapacitate them. We need to herd him towards Kannabi bridge, not assume he will be going there anyway. Understood?” She spoke with an assertive tone. It was clear that there would be no alterifications to her plan unless they were needed badly. She knew that she was smart, and capable of making proper plans, but Haruka seemed like a boy who had some tactical insight. She would rely on him to pick out flaws in the plan, if he noticed them. Ayame might be sure of herself, but she wasn't a fool who wouldn't tolerate invoice. Daiki was a fiery type that would ensure the mission was completed no matter what. That was something they could use in case something went awry. And Sentou was needed for her capability of taking down the man with a single bow - something neither of the other chunin could do, and something that Ayame couldn't do due to the nature of her techniques. Something that would take Ayame an hour, Sentou could do with a single technique. It was simply easier that way.

“We are approaching the position where the Ronin was last spotted. He won't be far. Be quiet.”

---

Yamato Minamoru, “Young Master”

---

Yamato gritted his teeth as Aoi spoke before he moved closer to her, shoving Nobunaga to the side with remarkable strength in his arms. After approaching Aoi he'd give the girl a short and firm push to the shoulder, that would be far too strong to be conceived as a friendly push, but not strong enough to topple her completely unless she was weak. “Nandayo, baka?! The only reason you can live in that shitty caravan of yours is because my mother took pity on you and your failed clown acts, so don't speak ill of me or my family, idiot. Besides, I don't know what you're talking about, me killing innocents? Those Jashinists captured my sister and attacked us, what are you on about? Did you sniff your damn goo instead of using it to kill that old man by accident?” Yamato would step closer to her with angry steps and grab her by her vest, shaking her backwards and then pulling her forwards a bit. Yamato couldn't care less what others said about him, he knew that he was greater than any of these 'would-be shinobi' like Aoi. But speaking like this about Rei really made him snap. His teeth were exposed in clear anger, and his eyes were fired up. This was likely the first time he had gotten so angry at Aoi, who normally left Yamato alone or tried to catch his attention with her tricks while she was working. Now? Now she was getting on his nerves for no reason, and more importantly, was discrediting Rei in the process. “What were you doing back then, besides slinging accusations of killing Shogo and those two lovebirds my way?” he barked at her, before he would speak in a more hushed way as he pushed her back by her vest and released her. “Stay the hell out of my way and keep pretending that you're a good leader. Time will come when your team dies at your hand. Psh. Even Daiki knows more than you.” The words were breezed through his teeth in anger and his eyes spelled hatred, but he didn't go towards action or physical violence. He'd save that for later times.

He turned around again to face towards Nobunaga. He was still angry, both visibly and noticeable in the aura he gave off. He stayed in his spot and pointed his finger at Nobunaga. “Shut the hell up. You are asking me to respect someone who doesn't even want to tell us her entire plan. She thinks we are so dumb, we wouldn't understand her masterplan. What kind of person demands respect that way. She doesn't even respect you enough to tell you her plan, and you're telling me to shut up? 'You're a chunin for a reason?' Shut up, idiot. You're not above me, you're below me. Who the hell are you anyway to speak to me like this?” His fist that was still at his side was trembling at this point, itching to lash out and break this kids' jaw. And while his last words seemed insulting, Yamato was honest in that he had no fucking clue who this guy was. And this made Yamato's offensive even more understandable - someone who doesn't know you speaking to you, telling you to have faith and respect someone, who doesn't understand your thoughts, and who acts without knowing a thing of you, those people are the most annoying of all people.

He turned to Tsukiko again, who he was standing very close to at this point. But it wasn't enough for him, he was still angry at Aoi and Nobunaga and that transferred into his conversation with Tsukiko unintentionally. He took a few more steps towards Tsukiko until there was barely a meter between them. “And maybe if you assumed less and listened more, you would know I wasn't proposing that I find them, nor was I proposing that I pinpoint the oasis. I'm not the tracker, that's you. I'm saying that it's fucking useless to set up traps in a desert that spreads across kilometres on end, where anyone can take any path, and that we should pinpoint a location where we are sure they will pass by, and finding that location would be perfectly applicable to your skillset, Tsukiko. I'm not an idiot jonin, who thinks that just because the Hokage prefers busty women over people who actually know a thing or two they get to do everything in a mission themselves, so I know that you should spread the tasks according to skills, and not do everything on your own. You may be the alpha, but remember alpha's get overtaken by beta's. But you're right, you're the jonin, so you better start fucking acting like it. Stop bickering with me and the others and let's leave already. If you hadn't noticed, all the other teams have dispersed already, and we're the last ones out. So let's fucking leave already and get this shit over with.”

Tsk. She had ordered them to gather their stuff - as if they hadn't done that already. She really assumed that they were idiots and not chunnin. What idiot shows up to a mission with no gear. Attached to his flak vest were numerous bottles of water, 6 to be precise. Furthermore he had two lunchpacks in his bag. It should be enough. He grumbled the entire way to the East Gate, where he was headed straight away. He jumped down from a nearby roof, landing in front of East Gate and looking out to see if any others were there already. It seems there wasn't so he simply stood around waiting for the rest. Nice. More waiting. As if they hadn't lost enough time already.

---

Saburo Uchiha, “Kimyōna”

Saburo was quite surprised when Takeshi fistbumped him, and even more so when Akio joined in. This was visible in his face which had turned into a very surprised expression. “D-doushita.. this is.. amazing. Wh-what a discovery..” he said calmly before pulling away his fist and pulling out a notebook and pencil. He started scribbling furiously and even drawing at one point. “Fist.. extends.. outwards.. BUMP. .. yes..” He put away the notebook quickly, but it was possible Takeshi and Akio would see what he had drawn. It was an image of three fists that touched eachother mid air, quite skillfully drawn but not an artists work. Above it would read 'Signature of friendship.'

Before anyone could say anything, Saburo would speak up. The words flowed rapidly from his mouth and it would be hard to keep up, but Saburo maintained a friendly face the entire time, smiling slightly when he paused and keeping his eyes closed in pleasure. “Yesterday, I had to pay the bill for my electricity. It was quite a hassle, but it was a new experience. Is electricity useful? I don't know. I never see a shinobi running around powering my devices! It's so strange. So I called their headquarters and asked about it. They said they don't use shinobi to power my devices, and when I asked why, they said they aren't allowed. Strange, right? I can cook my food without gas, though, cause I've got fire jutsu. I learned that in the eleventh co-” Before he could continue his talk he suddenly opened his eyes and had a shocked expression on his face - something was wrong. “I can't tell you about that. I'm sorry, please accept my sincere apologies for the sudden break off of my sentence, I hope you can accept and forgive me, denoting that I am very sorry and hope we can still be friends!” he said as he dropped to the floor and sat at their feet, begging for forgiveness. How.. curious.