Heroes At War - Battlefield Glory

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Rion, Oct 29, 2015.

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    Heroes At War - Battlefield Glory
    The world of Dalenaia is at war!
    Kingdoms fight left and right, and peace is nothing but a means of backstabbing.
    In hope of turning the tide, Kings have now requested the aid of local Heroes.
    But can justice truly be achieved on a battlefield?

    The players actions will determine the future of not only Tarabon, but the world itself.
    And it all began in the Capital Elmora, as King Rolf II prepared his army for war...

    Ah, Elmora. The grandest city in all of Dalenaia, well at least if you want to believe one of its one hundred thousand citizens. Trade had made this city great, and it still managed to keep it running somehow. For behind the great grey stone walls a hub of shops would greet every traveler. No matter what tall gate he or her would use to enter the city. Most of these houses or shops are made of wood, but as one walk deeper inside more and more stone is introduced. And finally, in the center of Elmora lies the great Castle of Tarabon. The large stone Castle stand the tallest, and not even one of the Grand Cathedrals in Elmora can compete. The Castle is home to the King and his Royal Guards. From here King Rolf II have ruled for many years. From here he plan the march onward.

    King Rolf was sitting by his dark wooden desk, fully clad in his battle armor. He was signing the last papers before departure later today. However, he was disturbed as a figure in black stepped out of the shadows by the door. "Your speech was very inspiring, your Majesty". The male voice commented neutrally. The King merely looked up briefly, before returning to his work with a grunt. "I bring good news. The coffers from the K.A.S. Union has arrived". That managed to get King Rolf's attention, and he smiled as he made his signature on a piece of paper and getting to his feet. "Wonderful. Let's have a look..."

    Meanwhile, outside Elmora.
    The soldiers of Tarabon's Second Army was already busy at work this early in the morning, as the many military tents was slowly packed down. There was still hours to departure, but General Oswald wanted them ready to leave at any minutes warning. As for the man himself...

    "Heroes for the army here! Any brave Heroes for the Army?!" General Oswald shouted out by a large wooden stand. He too was in his battle armor, completely with the eagle crest on his shoulder plate. "Comeon! Do any Hero think they have what it takes to aid Tarabon in her need for soldiers?!" He continued loudly, asking the crowd of travelers who passed by on the main road to Elmora. So far none had come forward. "I am a heroc! I will apply! leyt me apply!" A drunk soldier attempted to make his way to the stand, but a kick to the arse from Oswald had him running away. "No amount of ale will turn you into Hero James, get out of here!" He said angry, and received a choir of laughter from the soldiers on duty.

    Three Royal Guardsmen was sitting behind the stand, ready to accept applications. Once proper Heroes had delivered their paper, they would be free to wander around until the King would call for march.

    The march to push back the invaders.
    #1 Rion, Oct 29, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 2, 2015
  2. Finariel walks out of the outer-bailey of the gate of the city. He turns in a slow cirlcle, taking in the sight. Soldiers rushed back and forth, preparing to march. Clerics ran about, debating the best way to finance the army. Then, he hears a shout from a wooden stand in the corner yelling "HEROES FOR THE ARMY!" He walks over, and in his quiet but powerful voice says, "I would like to apply."

    He waits as the Royal Guards at the table and the man in armor scrutinize him. Stalling them, he says, "I may not look it, but I am older than I look. I remember when Tarabon was nothing more than a series of villages on a river. I remember when the first king rose to power, and united those villages to become great cities, slowly forming a kingdom." The whole while, he's filling out the parchment application. He hands it to the guard at the left side of the table.
    #2 Natsu, Oct 29, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2015
  3. Dawn sat in her tent, her bow in hand as her fingers gently pulled a purple arrow back on the string, pointing directly at the flap of her tent. Pulling back at the string, if she wasn't an elf it would've been difficult to continue holding it as steadily as she was. She'd been up a few minutes before the sun had rose into the sky, since arriving with the army Dawn had really stuck to the company of herself

    A small black fox jumped in front of her, making a little grueling noise as if to remind her of his presence.

    "Right, just you and I, Ciar," Dawn laughed a bit, patting the dark furred creature on the head after putting her weapon down. The elf's golden eyes looked down at the leather breastplate of her armor, nimble fingers reached down and continued to tie her top on securely. Underneath the top of her armor were white wrappings that held her chest in place. When Dawn was sure that her entire outfit was on, she hooked her quiver of arrows around her hips. Dawn picked up her silky pale blue night dress from the floor, underneath the dress had been two black-silver daggers that Dawn knew screamed danger. Last night she had soaked them in poison, like a few of her arrows, and let them dry when she awoke and got ready for the day. Easily picking the daggers up by their hilt, Dawn easily slipped them in the sheaths that were attached to the back of Dawn's armor.

    Long strands of thick dark brown waves of hair fell down her back, stopping right at her bottom. Within the brown were highlights of turquoise,something she managed to do thanks to one of the elf mages. Since this was war that was going to happen, Dawn picked up a brush and began to run it through the silks of her hair. When there were no knots from sleep she grabbed a bit of hair, braiding two thick braids that lay on her shoulders. Of course Dawn had more hair so she picked the rest up, putting it all into one thick braid that fell down her back.

    Finally ready, Dawn stood up and exited the tent with Ciar on her heels. His red eyes glowed with mystery but Dawn and Ciar had a strong bond, the two of them shrouded in their own cloaks of secrets.

    Ciar had Dawn's application in his mouth as he followed after the elf woman, wiring his way through the legs of strangers. Still he never lost sight of Dawn. Without hesitation, Dawn made a little clicking sound with her tongue and Ciar jumped and handed Dawn's application in for her.
  4. Within the camp, watching as peasants and squires packed up tents, uprooting the stakes and folding the canvases- Eriya listened in the distance as the General Oswald was calling for Hero conscripts.

    She was sitting on a small supply crate, her head covered in a large black hood hung down. Having been staring at her hands for a while, she snapped out of her daze. Her wrists had become slightly irritated where her shackles were locked. She sighed with some despair- wondering if her station would ever change. She was conscripted upon her will to fight for the country's military, instead of going to the dungeon- and likely the stake for burning. Though despite the Sherriff allowing her to volunteer for military service as a Hero- she was still met with distrust, requiring her hands to be shackled until she was needed for service. A distant hope was in the back of her mind that in time- the general would take notice of her duties to the crown- and pull some strings to help get her pardoned.

    She crossed her legs, and leaned back a bit, watching others walk back and forth between supply wagons and the grounds as they prepared for departure, loading sacks, crates, barrels, and other items.

    "Looks like they're gathering more conscripts. Last ditch effort." A gravelly voice from behind her commented. Turning her head, to see beyond the visibility her black sleeveless robe would allow- she saw a familiar face. A halberd upright in his right hand- propping himself up, and his sallet helmet under his left elbow, one of her three appointed guardsmen nodded to Eriya. A few weeks ago they hated each other, but the constant companionship sort of grew on them both. By no means did any of them like the other party, but a sort of mutual understanding was met. "Maybe they'll find another like you."

    The other two chuckled, and Eriya shook her head, rolling her eyes.

    "They call themselves 'heroes'," she snickered. "You think -i- am hero material, Gaddes?" she twisted her upper body to turn to another of her guards. At least she had a sense of humor. Her attention pointed to the man, standing relaxed, looking off to the distant hills before them, helmet in his right hand, and his left hand resting on the sword hilt at his waist.

    "Oh you? You're the spitting image of heroism." he said in a drawing, sarcastic tone.

    They all shared a brief chuckle, before the previously silent guard stood from his squatting position.
    "Lord approaching." He bumped the butt of his spear lightly against Eriya's improvised 'chair'. "Stand, prisoner." His gruff voice rapped. The other two guards stood at attention, in a triangle behind Eriya. She stood quickly, pushing herself off the crates she was sitting on, her wrist chains clattering as her feet met grass. She looked at the approaching trio as they arrived.

    A man in polished castle- forged armor with a fancy cloth hat approached them, with a couple squires behind him. He was not familiar to Eriya, but the other three seemed to know who he was. Must be a big landowner or some such thing.

    "So this is the Witch of the East, eh?" he looked her over quickly. "I hear your trial ruled both out of, and in your favor." He placed his hands on his hips. "I truly hope the rumors of your innocence are true, for your sake." He shook his head, looking to the ground. "But, I'm not here for sentiments- I wanted to deliver the message personally to see if you really existed. Not everyday a man gets to lay eyes upon a sorceress..." His hands dropped from his hips. "The commander will be preparing for Muster shortly, and they will likely need the 'heroes' there." He turned slightly, before passing a final thought- "Time to move from the comfort of the supply line." With that, the three guards gave a curt nod, with an ''understood''. The noble quickly walked away with his squires in tow.

    Eriya swallowed a hard lump in her throat that had been forming. It was real now. She was no longer a tool of convenience, she would now be tasked with much more difficult duties. She wouldn't be a simple pathfinder anymore. They'd likely find her use in the slaughtering of her countries new 'enemies'.

    "C'mon now, prisoner. Let's move."
    The guards ushered her to Muster where she would receive orders, or at least where to go next so she could be assigned a unit.
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  5. "... If I may speak." A dark-skinned man said appearing before the general. "I am Kascarde." He raised his application and held it out towards the man with reasonable vigor. "I wish to apply." Said he, Kascarde, with a grin of sorts upon his face. He was bound to be recognized by someone here as he's served Tarabon before, albeit as a mercenary, and this only served to convince him further that he should fight under Rolf's wing, atleast until he finds out the information of which he seeks; and coincidentally enough, he was almost about to leave the encampment. "Hopefully, your Kingdom and Lord will consider having one suchlike myself in your ranks." He extended a hand out to shake the general's hand, confident enough that he made a fair enough first impression. Which brought another smile to the man's face.
  6. "Be careful, there will be no chains to temper you once you leave here." The man said running a hand across his grizzled chin. Glenn managed a small laugh as she rubbed her wrists to chase away the phantom grip of steel.

    "If you have so little confidence in me you should have kept me in my cage." she replied, the hint of a dare in her voice. The sound that the man made was not quite close enough to laughter for Glenn's comfort and in response she gave him a gentle smile. Both knew that if her willed failed her life would not be the only one forfeited.

    "Here, I trust you will not need them, but for our peace of mind you might wish to take them." And he handed her a pair off metal shackles attached to a heavy chain.

    "Just...in.....case!" As her hand close around the metal her vision bent and sharpened. The old man in front of her appeared to shrink, or perhaps she grew, he looked up at her with terror and he tried to turn and run. A hand shot out, clawed and quickly becoming covered in a dense hair, and Glenn was horrified to find that the hand attached to her own arm. She tried to draw back but she was locked inside a body not under her own control. The body in her hands was soon torn to rags and her entire being was soon slick with blood, it flooded the ground, rising higher and higher, up to her legs, her waist, her neck. Until she was drowning, her senses flooded with blood until the world finally filled with a merciful black.

    Glenn woke with a start as there was a stiff knock at her door. For a moment her mind was scattered, confusion reigned as she glanced, panicked, around the plain room she had awoken to. A voice from the other side the wooden door on the far side of the room brought her firmly back.

    "Miss? Ye awake?" Came the voice of the burly inn keeper she had rented a room from last night.

    "Yes! One moment please." Glenn called as she threw back the heavy wool blankets and planted both feet on the floor. Grabbing her cloak from where she had tossed it across the back of a chair last night she pulled it around herself to cover her sleeping clothes before heading to the door. A moment to undo the locks and it opened to reveal a very large man holding a wooden bowl.

    "A bet of brakfast miss, the misses added a wee bet of fruit for ye." He said handing her the bowl, a big smile splitting his face as Glenn traded the bowl for a few coins that she fished from the folds of her cloak.

    "Thank ye kindly miss." He said with a quick nod before retreating back downstairs where already the sounds of people talking could be heard. With the man gone Glenn set about her morning, finishing her breakfast and getting herself dressed. Most of her things were still packed from yesterday so it was not long before she wandered downstairs, empty bowl in hand and bag over her shoulder. The inn keeper himself was nowhere to be seen but his wife flitted about behind the bar, catering to the few who had wandered down for an early breakfast.

    "Ah there ya are dear! Did ya finish tha brakfast?" The stout woman asked giving Glenn an approving nod as she was handed the empty wooden bowl.

    "Very good, ya are fah to skinny, these will stick to ya ribs it will." The woman said taking the bowl and disappearing with it into the back, when she returned she carried a small bundle wrapped in a scrap of old cloth.

    "Here deary, something ta keep ya going." The woman said warmly sliding the parcel across the counter to Glenn.

    "Tsk!." The woman said as Glenn reached for a few coins to pay for the gift. "This one be on me. There are a few extra strips of salt cod for you in there, since you seemed ta fancy it so."

    The woman was treated to a wide smile as Glenn carefully picked up the parcel and tucked it away into in pack.

    "Thank you kindly, pity I can't stay longer, the nights here are so pretty."

    "Aye, pity they won't be much longer now, seasons be changing."

    "That they are..." Glenn said. With another warm smile, a heartfelt goodbye, and few last glances around Glenn walked out onto the waking streets.


    It took Glenn a long while to find her way to the main street, it had been a very long time since she had last entered the city. These days she tended to avoid the city, to many people, to much of a risk, and yet here she was. The press of people that swarmed around her weighed heavily on her sharpened sense and several times she had to stop herself from holding her breath against the assault of smells or from throwing up her hands to comfort her abused ears. From a fair distance Glenn finally heard the call that she had been listening for, and weaving her way through the press of bodies she came upon a large stage where a well dressed man called to the crowd.

    "Comeon! Do any Hero think they have what it takes to aid Tarabon in her need for soldiers?!"

    Pushing her way to the front to free herself of the crowd for a bit Glenn stood and watched a while. Part of her hoped that Elson and the others would appear out of the crowd but she dismissed the idea as a foolish hope. From what she had gathered from the letter that they had left her they were already marching with the army, she would have had to be very lucky to see them here today and as it was luck was rarely on her side.

    Several came forward with applications, one earning himself a firm kick up the ass as he drunkenly stumbled up to the table where three guardsman waited to accepted applications. One woman even approached with what looked to be a black furred fox at her side. The sight tickled the hackles at the back of Glenn's neck, dogs never seemed to like her much, perhaps she smelled to much like the wild they protected their masters from. Now she wasn't entirely sure the fox would react the same way, but animals did seem to be far better at recognizing her as different than people. As the others turned in their application Glenn made her way to one of the who were standing so dutifully and cleared her throat.

    " 'scuse me have any other elves applied? I am looking for one, tall, blonde, wields a pike, missing part of an ear?" She asked hopefully, but all she got was a blank look. The man she had asked turned to the two others but they only shook their heads and shrugged.

    "None for in the last week that we have been here." The man said. "But we have only been assigned this duty for about a week. Your elf might have come around earlier."

    "Well I suppose there is nothing for it." Glenn said with a a disappointed sigh as she shrugged her pack off of her shoulders and from the top of it she pulled out a carefully rolled application. The man took her papers and unfurling them he added her name to a growing list. There was a pause as something caught his eye on her paper before he rolled them back up and added it to the top of the pile.

    "Since you are going to be a healer you might want to make your way to the sick tent, Sir Roltun will be there and you will be under his charge." He said with a nod towards the city gates. With a nod of thanks Glenn retreated back from the table and made a few hesitant steps towards the army's camp. If rumors were true she could expect that they would moving out soon, it would do to be left behind to soon.
  7. A warrior coated in furs and leather sat in the corner of a tavern in the Capitol. The warrior had come to the Capitol in search of glory, he heard that the old king Rolf had been seeking heroes to fight in his war against the invaders. To push these scoundrels off his lands. This warrior was named Bjarke. He was a wild man from the North. Bjarke held no loyalty to either side but knew that the best fighting would come from the King's Army.

    Bjarke rose from his slumber and stood from the booth he had taken refuge in for the night. He grabbed his greatsword from its place leaning against the wall and strapped it back on over his back. He exited the dimly lit pub and was confronted by the bright contrast of the sunlit streets. He put his hand over his forehead blocking the sun as he got his bearings for the city, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a pale of clear water. He walked over to it and dropped to his knees, he held the bucket rim with his hands and dunked his head inside. The refreshingly cold water rid him of his grogginess. He whipped his head back and pushed his now wet locks behind his head. He had passed by the army of the king the previous night and recalled their general direction. After some time walking he found himself in front of a wooden stand, watching a man call out for heroes. This man was the General. A drunk man began shouting to let him join, that he was a hero. Bjarke crossed his arms and watched the man. It made Bjarke laugh when he was told off by the General. Bjarke walked up to the stand and found his way around it, he looked at one of the royal guards and reached into his left boot. He pulled out a slightly crumpled application and unfolded it before handing it to one of the guards.

    Bjarke was not the only one here, few other heroes arrived and filed applications. Some looked dangerous, others looked like maidens. The competition did not seem stiff, he knew he would be in the vanguard. The first to fight. It would be he that broke through the ranks of the invaders and cut a path of blood. He would be the first to hear the screams of the enemy. He walked around hoping to find some soldiers goofing off and brawling, he was eager to get his blood pumping.
  8. @Kazuto-Kirigaya @Karma200 @Spectre @Ser K+

    General Oswald Krona
    The General eyed the Elf, but didn't step in to prevent him from filling out the form. Another figure approached, this time a human. Oswald lifted an eyebrow as the dark-skinned man introduced himself. The General accepted the application and quickly eyed its content. The proud Hero General was no personal fan of mercenaries, and Oswald almost rejected him for that sole reason. But he knew his King's orders, and how badly they needed the extra manpower. Oswald finally spoke, though he didn't shake the man's hand, "Accepted, welcome to the party."

    The veteran Hero General was taken back only for a moment, as more figures now stepped forward to apply. He looked through their papers personally and with a very serious expression, examining their faces once in a while as well. Though, towards the end he slowly nodded his head, and gave the stack of papers back to the Royal Guard at duty. They exchanged a few words quietly, out of the Heroes reach. It only took a moment, and the Guard left his port, quick on his feet to get to the City Gate.

    Oswald clapped his hands to get the attention of the people in front of him. Two Elves, a male and a female. There was a small interesting animal accompanying the female Elf, and Oswald sure hoped for her that she knew what she was doing, bringing that harmless thing to a battlefield. Two humans was also there, again a male and a female. The first one was a mercenary, but it seemed like he had some experience. It would no doubt help him on the battlefield. As for the female... She was a special case. Witch on trial or something like that. He would have to keep a close eye on those two Oswald thought to himself.

    "Welcome to Tarabon's Second Army, or more fancy the Liberation Army of Tarabon. The Gods must have some mercy on us after all, giving us this many Heroes at once." The General made a wide grin as he signaled them to follow him into the army camp. Soldiers stepped out of their way for the group, many stopping their work to take a look at the so-called 'Heroes of Tarabon'. However, the majority didn't know any members of the group. At least not yet.

    "You no doubt have many questions, but sad to say I can't tell you much. Even I don't know more than what I have been informed by his Majority. But if Almoth wants war, then damn well we'll give em!" Oswald almost shouted the last part out, and received a small roar from the surrounding soldiers. "So there you have it." He stopped and turned around to look on the Heroes, his hands behind his back. "You will of course be paid a good sum of money for the help, as well as the fame of helping defending your home country. But be warned, the battlefield is not your usual bandit hunting." With that, he spun around with arms raised into the air for the large amount of soldiers who had gathered around them. "Soldiers of Tarabon! Let's welcome these fine Heroes into our fold! Almoth will tremble in fear when we united kick their asses back to Bairfon!" The roar from hundred of people could be heard across the entire camp, raising the morale.

    "We leave in an hour." He told the Heroes, and left them behind. Much work still had to be done.
  9. A man dressed in military fatigues paced about the camps, sifting through a small stack of documents as he reviewed the troops in preparation. He flicked through them a little more annoyed with each passing page. Records of resource stocks, letters in correspondence for each unit conscripted from the relevant towns, but they did not add up. He got to the last page, read it briefly, then smacked it in frustration and let his arms drop. "We're short on our count," the quartermaster said to himself, scratching his head, "We were expecting one hundred more troops today, and not one extra has shown up." The quartermaster continued mumbling to himself, something about the country already being a shambles, until someone shouted his name from through a small crowd of soldiers.

    "Sir Kerrick!"

    The quartermaster shuffled his papers together, furrowed his brow and peeked around through the camp. A young man, likely a messenger with the way he was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, was stumbling through the camp while flailing a letter in his hands, trying to make his way to Kerrick. The quartermaster chuckled for a second, then beckoned the boy over to him. When he arrived, he nearly fell over, bent forward with his hands on his knees. The messenger took a few seconds to catch his breath, the raised the letter to Kerrick.

    "It's... it's from Cudsul, sir." He said, hunched over and flailing the documents at Kerrick.

    Kerrick pursed his lips at that. Cudsul? He flicked his eyes around as he thought about the relevance of a message from Cudsul, then reached forward and grabbed the letter out of the boy's hands. There were a couple other papers with it, and it seemed like it would be a long read, but it took him about two seconds of actually reading through before it dawned on him.

    "I regret to inform you that my militia are already spread too thin to... oh, damn it." Kerrick huffed, then continued on reading. "Though we cannot spare the troops... a replacement will be sent...? Oh for-" He stopped just before he cursed and skipped to the final lines. His frustration quickly turned to surprise as his eyes widened. "A High Magus?" he said in disbelief. "Hmm... I'll take it. We'll be a little overstocked on supplies-- hardly an issue-- but I'll take it."

    Kerrick patted the boy on the shoulder, flicked a coin out of his pocket to him, and sent him on his way. "Now, where is this... Tor... Torena?" he said, glancing at the sheet.

    He drew in a sharp gasp and swore under his breath as soon as he looked up and found a woman standing in front of him, hands folded. With the way she still caught passing glances from the soldiers, she must've been some kind of important. Or just threatening, maybe. But, there was an aura of energy, or some kind of power about her, almost like she commanded a presence beyond her own physical being. Something about the way she moved. With intent. Without a care for the crowd of soldiers that parted for her. And she was coming directly for him.

    She carried herself like an officer, clothed in a thick covering of red robes far too clean and vibrantly colored to be numbered among the common folk. Fresh red markings adorned the area under her bright yellow eyes and... was that... blood, coming from the markings? Or was it just the same as the makeup under her eyes? He leaned forward for a second, almost curious enough to try getting a closer look, but expression she gave him snapped him back. A playful smirk underneath narrowed, almost glowing eyes. Yep. She knew.

    Once he realized he'd been staring for several seconds, Kerrick proceeded to straighten himself out and act proper, burying his previous frustrations under his excitement to see an actual mage. Not that it was much better to make a fool out of himself, but at least there was some amount of due respect in it.

    Kerrick cleared his throat and shuffled his papers about. "T-Torena Cresna, I presume? I'm the, er, Quartermaster-- Quartermaster Kerrick," he managed to spit out. He swallowed hard and paused for a moment. It was great to have a high magus among them but, harrowing to actually talk to them. Couldn't she just blow him up with a mere thought? He cleared his throat again and tried continuing, this time with greater eloquence. "So... you're our replacement for Cudsul's expected one hundred troops?"

    Torena shifted away from him and appeared hurt by how incredulous he sounded. Or, at least she pretended so for a bit. She unclasped her hands and gave Kerrick a polite bow. "More than a replacement," she told him with a reassuring smile, "A message of solidarity from Cudsul. I'm sure the General would be pleased to know the Disciples of Azerlanael are willing to stand by Tarabon and its people."

    Kerrick's mouth hung open stupidly for a few seconds. He blinked at her, and tried to recall what in the world the Disciples of Azerlanael could... oh, right. That quaint little cult of dragon worshippers from the north. But if a dragon worshipper held this kind of presence...? Well, that was something worth seeing in action. Kerrick closed his mouth and nodded to her, "Right! Yes, of course he would be. I'm sure he'll be pleased to have any mage at all but, are you sure they should've..." he paused and checked Torena's expression before he went on, "...sent one as young as yourself?"

    Torena licked her lips for a second, then smirked at him again. "I'm nearing forty years, Quartermaster," she said with a chuckle, "They could send younger."

    Kerrick drew out a mouthed 'Oh', and then pivoted on his heel to turn from Torena and act like he was reviewing his papers. Well, in truth, he was somewhat, but mostly hiding his embarrassment over his continued failure of a social interaction with the High Magus. Torena stood up on her toes to try and see what the Arch Magus was saying about her...

    Kerrick mumbled to himself the whole time as he read over her qualifications. She was capable, according to the documents. Very capable. Adept in Augury magic, Fire magic, and some kind of transformation? Whatever it was, it was a welcome asset. When he was satisfied with the details, and regained his composure, he flipped back around and pointed off where the General was shouting whatever vaguely inspirational nonsense he usually shouts. "Since you're a replacement, rather than applicant, just head over to the General so he can meet you."

    Torena gave him a nod and stepped past him. "But, the application?" she asked over her shoulder.

    She was... going on without him. Kerrick loped after her until he could walk beside her, then gave her a dismissive wave of his hand and raised the documents from Cudsul. "With this, I can fill it myself. All of my other tasks are accounted for, either way, so I'll save you a bit of time. Go explain to the General the situation Cudsul, and I'll take care of the paperwork. If he asks, tell him I sent you."

    Torena smiled warmly and thanked him, then proceeded to shift through the roaring crowds to the rest of the heroes while Kerrick made his way to the wooden stand.
    #9 Azaryin, Nov 4, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 10, 2015
  10. As the four arrived near the General, Eriya stopped in place, and turned around. she gave a look to her three 'companions'.
    "You'll miss me, I know. Stay your tears." She said coyly.

    The three guards tasked with delivering her here after some time spent guarding her, they were happy to be going back to the city's keep and living the quieter life.

    Though one, Gaddes, seemed reluctant, and gave her a smile, and called her by name.
    "Eriya Chase, good luck to you..." He was a generous young soldier, an all around nice guy. He was the only one of the three who mostly saw through the stereotyping and claims, and got to know her a little. He was genuinely sad to see her go, and hoped she survived. The other two guards began walking away, back toward the keep, but Gaddes had one last thing to say- "Once you gain your freedom, come back and visit, eh?" he smirked, patted her on the shoulder, and quickly walked to catch up with the other two guards.

    They didn't undo her shackles, but maybe she would be able to convince one of the smiths to break them off a little later. She was no thief- The Army would need her at her best now. Maybe when no one was looking, she'd break them herself.

    The General was beginning to address everyone, and Eriya kept quiet. She stood straight, her black boot heels together, and her hood was up- but her pale face was still easily seen. General Oswald then gestured for all the heroes to follow him. He lead them into the camp- as many around them were going about their business, making sure they had all they needed to move camp. Then, the general started to get the crowd involved, and preach a bit.

    This may raise morale for the soldiers... they're going to need it...
    They were proud, and willing.

    Unable to say the same thing for herself- she felt out of place, and ashamed. Obviously a prisoner, her hands close together in front of her waist- wrists chained together. This probably didn't look good to the other heroes, and soldiers about.

    Leaving in an hour? When we're on the move might be a good chance to break these things...

    Eriya had no idea what to expect. When she worked for the army previously, she was briefed quickly on where she needed to go, and things to look for. She set out with one or two other pathfinders, and acted as scouts for the Commanders. Gaining information on the terrain they would be traversing, and if there were any operation camps of the enemy hidden in their path. Se had never fought a war before, and didn't know what to expect. She was confident in her abilities as a monk and fighter- but was a little scared for what would be happening....

    Hell, she was scared when she was sneaking through the woods to scout out the terrain before war were declared. What will it be like when she sees a field stacked with men and women intent on killing each other?

    She looked to the man who she had walked near since she arrived. He was a large guy, light hair, appeared to be your typical northman. Carried a heavy blade. She sized him up briefly, and attempted to quietly get his attention...

    So she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

    "'scuse me, sir- Would you terribly mind doing me a favor?" Her tone was polite, but not sheepish. She'd try to get someone else to break these things for her. At least it would seem a little better if she didn't sneakily remove them herself... That would probably seem more untrustworthy.
    #10 Spectre, Nov 5, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 5, 2015
  11. "Haha! Aye." said Kascarde, who had finally began to relax. "Hmm..." He checked his hand for sweat, and even smelled it. No abnormalities here. He couldn't pinpoint the reason as to why the general didn't want to shake his hand... Maybe it was because he was too foward...

    "...Ah, that's it." Kascarde muttered to himself. "He's either squeamish for some reason, or hates Mercs... Yeah...That must be it." That second conclusion that he drew was probably the closest to the truth. Kascarde didn't blame him, mercenaries have the tendency of changing sides during battle... And he couldn't say that he never did... Oswald likely just didn't trust him right now. Kascarde would need a bit of grain to get on his good side. "Huh..." And now came the boring part, waiting for his handlers to finish packing and whatnot. For an hour at that. "Tsk, maybe I should just ditch them all and pull off that riskier plan instead." Well, what he had originally intended to do was read up on any information about that "sacred stone" that he could find, but... He bet that as soon as he got to the capital and started to look through the shelves, this second army would somehow be entering the city as well via some magical passage he had no knowledge of, or a shortcut of some sort, which from what he was going by would earn him the wonderful prize of having an ear or three yelled off. Besides something like that is half the fun anyways. So instead Kascarde decided to take a nap to keep himself out of trouble, or tried to with all this ruckus. He heard a conversation nearby that did however grab his attention.

    "I wonder what that fool is thinking. He's only putting our Kingdom in jeopardy by hiring these "Heroes". For all he knows one or all o' em could be assassins." Said a squire, rather heated up about his topic.

    An obvious friend brought her hand to his mouth. "Shush, you idiot. It's bad luck to talk about our Lord in such a way. Besides he was a hero himself."

    "Still, it's a major risk!"

    An assassin? Well that would be interesting, and to Kascarde's knowledge horrifically possible. A spy led to the disbandment of the troup he was in last. Though, it wasn't as if there were any truth in the squire's words, as it was simply an example of something that could go awry.

    However, it was interesting enough to make Kascarde eavesdrop on a few others. If he was lucky, maybe he'll hear something pertaining to him.

    "Hah, yeah, maybe she'll fall in love with me"

    "My son is training to become a marksman you know."

    "Scuse me, sir- Would you terribly mind doing me a favor?"

    Besides those three comments, Kascarde heard a couple of "Those guys." and the like, but nothing more over the roar of common squabble.

    He looked over at that blondie elf kid, or rather... Elf... Seeing as he was probably a hundred or so years older than Kascarde himself, he just looked young... As all elves do... Almost... He wanted to start a conversation with the guy, but suddenly fell prey to his original plan of taking a nap. Kascarde chuckled as he began to black out. He'd just converse with his fellow heroes on the route to the capital later on as all...
  12. Finariel looks around at the rest of the Heroes. Hmm... A Berzerker, a Warrior, a Ranger, a Healer, and two Mages... Not a bad mix. The Berzerker could be a problem, as in my experience they seem to get into a lot of fights, but oh well. Hopefully he takes it out on the enemy and not us. He scans the rest of the group, looking at weapons, and possible strength and intelligence level.

    "Scuse me, sir. Would you terribly mind doing me favor?"

    He looks up as one of the mages speaks. Seeing the man that she was talking to was not even paying attention, he says to her, "What can I do for you, since he's a little lost right now?"

    He looks at the Mage, at her hands and the shackles. He looks at the man to whom he was speaking, noticing his obvious strength and heavy blade. If dawns on him in an instant. "You wish for someone to help you out of those shackles, eh?" He says to her in a low tone. "If you so wish, I have a blacksmith friend that, given a small fee, he can remove the shackles and keep his silence about it. He doesn't ask questions, just give him the coin, and you have his silence." He pauses. "What say you? My name is Finariel, by the way. Finariel Greenleaf."
    #12 Natsu, Nov 8, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2015
  13. (Collab with @Azaryin )

    "Rolton...Rolton...Rolton..." Glenn muttered under her breath as she moved through the slowly deteriorating camp. All around her tents were being collapsed as the army prepared to move out. More than once she had to make a quick sidestep as a team of soldiers rushed by with planks and scaffolding under their arms, and twice she had to step of the well beaten path to let an over cumbered cart make its way down the road. The sheer volume of people was starting to weigh heavily on Glenn's mind, that black part of her mind that she had long locked away stared longingly out of its cage and licked its chops eagerly. It was true she had stayed in cities before, but she had never done so for very long, never being able to justify the risk, and yet now here she was standing in the middle of a moving city. One that she had tethered herself to for who knows how long. Doubts that she had patiently silenced on her way here now crept back up to gnaw at her confidence. What if a battle started during the full moon, if she was dragged into a fight at her weakest she could give no guarantee that her will would hold.

    As her mind turned to darker and darker thoughts there was a point were she almost just turned and walked away only to be stopped by the sight of a large crudely painted sign lying in front of a dissembled tent most likely waiting to be packed onto a waiting cart. The sign had been painted with the symbol of the healers' trade, a large circle with four arrows pointing in the four cardinal directions with an open hand at the base of the arrows in the center of the circle. Looking around Glenn spotted four individuals standing before a tall grey haired man who wore the blue robes of a master of his trade. He seemed to be talking rather heatedly to the four gathered in front of him, but he broke off what his tirade as he spotted Glenn cautiously approaching.

    "What do you want?!" He snapped and as Glenn attempted to splutter something out he cut her off with another dismissive gesture. "We are packed, unless it is serious you can wait!"

    At this point he seemed to expect Glenn to turn tail and run in the opposite direction. Instead after a few moments of him staring incredulously at her and she taking a few moments to compose herself she took a step forward and offered him the form that she had been handed once she has handed her own application in. It was promptly snatched from her hand and, who she was sure was Sir Roltun, flicked his eyes across the paper.

    "Ah." Roltun said, his tone almost disappointed. "I see..."

    He glanced Glenn up and down before letting out what was unmistakably a defeated sigh.

    "Fine, you shall be assigned to work with Janus until you have been fully evaluated. We are to move out shortly so you may do what you wish until the orders are finalized." He spoke quickly and curtly, pausing only once to gesture towards a boy, the one he called Janus, a scrawny, pale haired thing of about 19. With that he turned on his heel, the other four following in his wake like ducklings as he went to yell at some of the men who had begun to pack some large wooden trucks that had been stacked neatly in a pile.

    There was little for Glenn to do, all her things were already packed, her application was handed in, and she had been given permission to roam around a bit until the marching orders came in. So she instead perched herself back a ways from the main road and brought out a plain leather bound book and began to jot down some notes in the journal. Since she had done this last night in the inn before she had gone to bed there was not much to add, that is until she heard a commotion coming from the main path and saw a woman in vibrant red stride past.

    She had seen several officers darting about but this woman was different, her robes competing with the Generals' for quality. Shoving her journal into a fold in her shirt she quickly shouldered her pack and dodged back out onto the main road her curiosity getting the better of her. It appeared that the woman was following one of the Quartermasters, towards the city entrance from what it looked like. Whispers drifted into her sharp ears, mage, Azerlanael, dragons, words that fueled Glenn's curiosity and made her far bolder than she probably should be.

    "Cudsul, that is a fair ways from here, specially for a child of Azerlanael." Glenn finally ventured, her voice barely picking up over the rumblings of the soldiers on all sides. Her quiet steps had brought her almost within step of the woman, her nose working to filter out all of the background to focus of a single scent.

    It was a hell of a thing to have a mage in as heroic reinforcements, and Kerrick made no effort to hide his excitement in front of the stand, making dramatic gestures with his arms, pointing at the documents, looking rather triumphant. When the man at the stand started to look confused, Kerrick just pointed in Torena's direction. Unfortunately, the General had moved on from his rousing speech, leaving Torena a bit out in the cold. She reached out tentatively, the words to stop his exit just barely about to leave her open mouth, but instead drew her hand back in over her chest. There'd be time to speak with the general during their advance, surely, and risking making a scene about the thing would just be improper. But, maybe...

    A soft voice from behind her caught her attention, causing her to perk up. She edged forward, thinking to ignore it and pursue the General now, but the words were knowing, and caused Torena to halt immediately. Someone knew of her Order. In fact, that someone spoke of it with a fair amount of reverence it seemed. A smile started to grow on her face before she turned to face the speaker.

    What she saw gave her pause. The voice she heard felt soft, and her unscarred features were fitting of a young woman somewhere in her twenties. She seemed like she could've been nobility at one point, but something in her eyes spoke to a different kind of life experience. And the way she knew Torena was a follower of Azerlanael... very interesting.

    Once Torena was satisfied with her assessment of the presumably young woman before her, she drew in a breath and responded. "Yes... yes, it is," she said with a bitter chuckle, speaking clearly of what the journey across must've been.

    "We've sought to spread Her influence for some time now," she explained, "The Order saw this war as a grand opportunity." She then looked at Glenn with puzzlement. There was a number of questions on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn't sure where to begin.

    Glenn was a careful observer and as Torena looked her up and down she measured the woman with her own gaze. The tattoos over the woman's eye were quick to draw her attention and she itched to grab one of her many notebooks from her pack and sketch down the pattern, but she kept herself disciplined, from her experience most did not like to be diagrammed out like some specimen on first meeting. Torena's bitter laugh drew sympathy from Glenn's own abused feet and earned herself a knowing chuckle in reply.

    "Can't be easy, suspicion is as powerful as ever." She said rubbing her ear in thought. At Torena's last statement, however, Glenn cracked a smell and let out another soft chuckle as she met Torena's vibrant amber eyes with her own dark brown ones. "Although seems war is usually an opportunity for those who don't fight it."

    With that she extended a hand and gave Torena a lopsided smile. "The names Glenn."

    Torena chewed on the inside of her cheek and glanced at Glenn's hand, grasping the cloth of her robes, but soon after put her hand in Glenn's and took the gesture as normal. "Torena," she replied with a ghost of a smile, meeting her gaze again.

    There was a sudden shiver up her spine. Torena held back a gasp, and tried to return her smile to cover it up, but it was hard to hide her curiosity as her mouth hung open slightly. There something was strange about this woman, and there were still questions to ask. It was something vaguely familiar, maybe? Something... arcane, in some sense of the word.

    "You... you hide something..." she murmured suspiciously, slipping her hand out of Glenn's, "You knew I was a follower of Azerlanael before I even turned around." She spoke like she was suspicious, but she smiled like she were impressed. Torena tilted her head at Glenn. "How did you...?"

    Glenn almost missed the hint of a shiver that flitted up Torena's spine as her gaze strayed back to the markings on the woman's face. From this distance she could now easily filter out all the background clutter and pungently sweet scent of blood tickled her nose. So not a tattoo, that would be something of interest once she was able to get her notes out, she would had to remember to ask Torena if it was a common practice. But, sharp eyes caught the small movement and she watched as the woman's mouth hung loose on its hinge. Lacking that extra sense Glenn could only speculate as to what exactly was going through the woman's head, at least until Torena next spoke.

    In a heartbeat the soft smile slide from her face and while outwardly she had a stony composure her eyes betrayed a flash of what could only be terror. Her grasp became limp allowing Torena's hand to slip easily out of her own, but as the woman continued to talk she managed to regain a bit of composure.

    "Yes, well..." She cleared her throat as she smiled again, perhaps a bit more forced this time but there none the less. "I travel...a lot..."

    What was she going to say, that she could smell the fire and soot coming off of her, that she had helped hunt and kill a single member of their ranks after a nasty attack by a small pack of werewolves, that she just really liked eavesdropping.

    "It was my job to know a bit of everything, I have met one or two of your sect before. If mostly in...passing."

    Years of reading people through expression and magic let Torena catch that tell. She squeezed her eyes narrower for a split second as she caught on, but maintained her smile and let Glenn explain herself, leaning forward with an expectant nod. Her lips slowly parted and started to show a grin. She knew she found something, but... perhaps now wasn't a good time to press the issue. It would be improper.

    "Ah, yes," she said knowingly, "I imagine it could only have been in passing..."

    Torena narrowed her eyes and looked over Glenn again. There must've been something key she missed that made her worthy of being seen as a 'Hero' by Tarabon. Maybe it was in her work history? But, with that last question... Torena recognized she was being just a bit aloof and tried loosen up a bit. Folding her hands in front of her, softening the look in her eyes, lightening her tone a bit should help ease whatever tension there was. After all, this was hardly a way to treat a new acquaintance.

    That decided, Torena opened her mouth to speak. Then... closed it, and paused to think of how to drive the subject away from the uncomfortable line of questioning she had planned. This wasn't an inquisition; it was a social interaction. "My job within my Order was... is... quite similar," she told Glenn, "Though, the travels and the flow of information were more local."

    "What was your profession, if I may know?" She asked with genuine curiosity in her tone. Much better. Much more... amiable.

    Had it not been for the years that she had spent guarding her secrets Glenn might have gone completely paper white. Even so it took a lot to keep her face from betraying anymore than it already had. There was a quiet stretch were her thoughts turned once again to abandoning the friends she had come to help in favor of saving her hide. As the black thoughts started to crowd her resolve suddenly strengthened, she had lived for years among hunters, both with those who knew her secret and those who didn't. She was no stranger to suspicion, if anything the first full moon would be her test, most all of the people she had ever met banished their suspicions when they saw her sit peacefully through the full moon. Hopefully that old trick would serve her well here.

    "Ah, well, I was a werewolf hunter I suppose, or at least I helped hunters, I was a record keeper, diplomat, and healer when they needed it." She said with a shrug. Occasionally she had stepped into the fight but the risk was great enough that she tended to avoid it.

    "It might hold up to be power of a mage but it has kept bread on the ta-" Glenn was interrupted as a shout rang out and like some great lumbering beast the army shook off its tethers and mobilized. Casting a gaze to the crowd Glenn sighed heavily through her nose.

    "I suppose that is my signal to depart, I am to travel with the other healers." she said with a nod down the path she had come from. Part of her was almost relieved for a break from the conversation, with so much to process the monotony of the road would be a balm for her mind, but part of her truly hoped that this would not be the very last she saw of the mage. At the very least she felt she had to throw Torena of her scent, and if things went well there might just be a few new pages added to her notes.

    The word 'werewolf' made Torena shift uncomfortably for a second, digging her sharp nails into the cloth of her robes, but the surprise easily mixed back in with the approving nod she gave Glenn. She looked over Glenn's unscarred, uncalloused hands, and suddenly they made sense. Glenn wasn't a soldier at all. She certainly was a healer. And the vibe about possibly being nobility... a record keeper and diplomat? None were roles to scoff at, healer least of all. Torena watched Glenn's face, looking intently over her features once more, trying to burn the image into her mind. If worse came to worst on the battlefield, simply knowing a magical healer could make all the difference.

    "You're certainly a welcome asset, Glenn," she told her with a grin, "Practitioners of the healing arts are hard to come by." The grin faded as she shifted her eyes toward the shout from behind her, which cascaded into more shouts further and further through the troops to relay the message. Getting time to march. Torena gave no words for Glenn's departure. Just a ghost of a smile and a bow, and then she silently broke away to (hopefully) meet with the General.

    Torena's eyes drifted away from the crowding soldiers to the ground as she walked. A look of concern slowly came over her. Something Torena did spooked Glenn, if even for a moment, but she couldn't pick out what it meant. Maybe not now... maybe it didn't matter. Torena shook her head and resolved to focus on discussing a couple things with the General. Like... what the army might expect of her.
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  14. Bjarke had been milling about when a young lady with pale skin and stark black hair tapped lightly on his shoulder. Had he not heard he speak he would have almost thought it a fly. Bjarke turned around and stood taller than the short woman. He spotted her restraints as another man stepped in. The man was not a man at all but an elf, fair haired and seemingly still young. Bjarke knew better than to trust the looks of an elf. Bjarke had never truly liked Elves, something about their impish looks always made them seem untrustworthy. The Elf offered the young lady a blacksmith, far too much time. Bjarke looked at the young lady then to the elf and chuckled before grabbing her restrains by the chain. He knelt down and pulled a long flat 3 sided of metal from his boot, it had a very small point and was not very wide.

    "Elves take far too much time with their work, you'll find that it helps to be blunt," He said to no one in particular as he worked the object into the socket of the key.

    The object was thin enough to go deeply into the mechanism, Bjarke quickly cranked his hand and the lock of the right hand easily popped open. He then proceeded to repeat the process with the left. He looked over the woman briefly, she carried only a small footlong knife. Hardly a warriors weapon, at this moment it clicked. She was a mage, gifted in the skills brought by forces unknown. Hardly one of his favorite peoples.

    "A Mage and an Elf. Not unexpected," Bjarke said with no discernible tone, "I am Bjarke, we are to be comrades."
  15. Giving a look to the elf, she almost responded with a 'maybe', but then Bjarke turned to address them. He threw a light-hearted jab at the elf- to which Eriya half smiled at.
    Her eyes widened as he went to town on her manacles without question. She didn't expect him to actually pick the locks on them... But in her mind it was better than breaking them herself. It just felt... only slightly more honest. In reality- her guards left her manacles on as a final jest.

    They clinked as she let them fall to the hard dirt ground. Chuckling with her mouth closed, she rubbed at her wrists. Her pale white skin was pink and blotched red there now. They were rubbed a little raw- an irritation rather than any sort of setback. Her long wrist wraps only provided so much protection from the constant chaffing. Though something like this would heal in a week or so. She naturally healed very quickly, and didn't scar easy. Something within her bloodline- she supposed.

    She gave a surprised "Hm." to Bjarke, "I'm rather surprised... pleasantly" she gave him a nod. "I thought you'd surely break the chain." she smirked. "Either way, thank you." she didn't want to forget her manners. Her tone was earnest.

    "A pleasure to meet you, Bjarke..." she then looked to Finariel, the elf. "And you as well, Finariel."

    She pondered even telling them her name. Preferring the anonymity, and not that it was their business. They had the right to know, though, didn't they? Bjarke especially- helping her without a question asked. She could be a thief- liar- or a murderer, and he just let her free. Then again- he probably wasn't afraid of anything she could do- at least to him. Then again- wouldn't being shady like that prove to her enemies that they were right? That she was not to be trusted, and that she was evil. At this point- she wanted nothing more than to nip this in the bud.

    She sighed, "Annd- I'm Eriya." she gave another nod. "But yes... comrades." she was not sure how she felt about that, and her tone sounded a little more 'concerned' than excited. She was a capable warrior in her own right, but she had never been a part of battle. She was all theory- and group practicing. None of which will substitute for experience.

    So an elf and a northman. She'd never really known anyone from the northern territories. She has met elves before, though. Surface dwelling elves had subterranean cousins, and she knew a few of those. There were three at her temple in the mountains. One had pale white skin like she had, the other two had a grayish blue skin color. Surface elves weren't much different, it seemed, in looks. Maybe a little taller. Though Eriya wasn't one to judge anyone based upon their racial ties- something she felt passionately about...

    "I have no idea where we are to go... Did you both volunteer today?"
  16. Ciar didn't even have to run around anyone's feet as people turned their attention to him but instead of wallowing in the light of attention, the shadow like fox jumped onto Dawn's shoulders and laid down as if he was some sort of fabric tossed around her shoulders. Dawn didn't move as she waited for her companion to settle down before moving all her hair from underneath him and throwing it around him, made it easier to move when he was there. Dawn's golden eyes slowly ran over the group of people nearby. Well not really a group but people on her team none the less.

    Looking down a bit she blinked for a few seconds before frowning at her friend.

    "Don't look at me like that Ciar, you know well enough I don't talk to everyone," Dawn flicked the fox on the forehead and ignored his growl of annoyance as she made her way toward the group that held a largely built man, a woman and another man. When she went up to them, what was she supposed to say? Dawn's people skills had gotten rusty over the years but it wasn't everyday she just openly spoke to other humans. Dawn blinked for a second before realizing this wasn't going to be as easy as she had hoped for. A nip on Dawn's neck had her jump in surprise to see that it was Ciar who had pulled her from her thoughts. He wanted to get this over with. Easy for him to say, wasn't like he had to talk.

    The broken chains caught her attention but instead chose to ignore it and instead starred each of them in the face once she reached them, thousands of possible topics ran through her head but none of them seemed to slow down for her to capture one.

    "Uhm... my name is Dawn, I suppose this is my new team?" Dawn spoke up to get their attention, it had to happen sooner or later.

    (I'll tag when I get home and sorry for it being short, I have somewhere to go until 1am)
  17. "While being blunt is appreciated in most cases, in some it pays to go slowly and make sure the job is done right." He sighs. "I suppose we are to be comrades. And to answer you, Eriya, yes, I just volunteered today. Will it be my first time in battle? By the name of the King, no! The first hundred or so years of my life were almost constant fighting. Pirates, bandits, thieves, and the like. And what of you all, Dawn? Bjarke? Eriya? Did you all join today as well?"

    Pulling a sword from his back, and a whetstone from his pocket, Finariel sits on the ground and begins to sharpen his sword. He's not used to new people, despite being over three hundred years old, and the people around him came from all walks of life, and most were foreign to him.

    The only time he had met a Berzerker was in combat, and had never met Mages much in his travels. He was unsure how to deal with them, since both classes have tried to kill him in the past.
  18. [​IMG]

    March to War

    The Heroes of Tarabon had finally joined the army at Capital City Elmora.
    The fate of their country now rest on their shoulders, perhaps even more so than they had first expected.
    However, no past battle experience could ever have prepared them, for the reality that is full scale war.
    Death comes equal to all, even more so on a broken battlefield. Their strength and teamwork will be tested.
    Glory await our Heroes, but first they must prove themselves worthy.

    With the General's encouragement, the entire 2,600 men army was ready to march. The military camp had been packed down, and equipment put on wooden wagons. Rumors of Tarabon Heroes had spread though the ranks like wildfire, boosting the morale and eagerness for action. Soon, General Oswald reassured them. Soon they would march to war. When they finally move out, it was with the biggest fanfare from Elmora's City walls in the history of Tarabon. Human, Elves, Orcs, even members of the Escarian race had joined the masses to wave the army off.

    Squads of scouts and light infantry took the vanguard, while the main army following behind. King Rolf II himself was accompanied by his Elite Royal Guards, fearsome warriors in the most heavy armor. Even their warhorses wore silver colored plates thick enough to withstand any engagements. They were ready to shove anyone away who dared approach the King without permission. General Oswald on the other hand was more active, and eagerly joined in on soldiers discussions with each other. He moved from section to section on his own metal plated horse, ensuring that the pace was kept as soldier after soldier marched in one long column. As for the Heroes, General Oswald had allowed them to move around as they wanted. King Rolf II had specifically ordered that the Heroes was not to be designated a company, to avoid a possibly disruption within the liberation army. They would be spread out across the front line once the enemy was in sight.

    The journey across Tarabon took a week and a half. At night they would camp down, lighting up the sky with dozen of campfires. The Heroes received a small area for themselves, but was otherwise welcome to meddle with the rest of the troops. By the end of the week, they knew each other better. But they didn't know the strength of their fellow Heroes just yet. The landscape started to change as they marched closer and closer to the mountain rich north. The famous pass to Almoth. Farms was replaced by hard soil and rocks, with the mountains close in the horizon.

    The Almoth forces had taken the pass, and secured a good defensive position. The terrain leading up to the pass remained flat, but quickly became more difficult and rocky as you moved in. From the Tarabon lines you could clearly see men of Almoth lined up one after another, swords and spears drawn. Their archers had taken formation on larger rocks, ready to launch barrages down on any attackers. Going up hill did not look inviting, but the Liberation army had the advantage of the numbers. Not only did Tarabon have more troops, they also had more Heroes. Only four Heroes stood behind the Almoth lines, plus a General.

    For the Tarabon Hero lines, from left to the right; Bjarke, Dawn Sage, Glenn, Torena, Kascarde, Eriya and finally Finariel stood ready. Each Hero was posted just behind the main lines, ready to move in the second the two armies clashed. Past midday, King Rolf II order the attack. With the sun high on the sky, the Tarabon formations slowly began moving forward. 1600 soldiers, 600 archers and 400 knights all with weapon drawn, eager to push back the invaders.

    And with rush, the two armies collided, arrows raining down on both sides. Steel meet steel as soldier meet soldier. The roar of battle was everywhere, and blood painted the grey rocks.
    War had come.

  19. "RRRAAAH!"
    Kascarde ran his shield into an Almoth sword, causing it to bend and later break, much to the dismay of whoever this footsoldier he decided to assault was. He heard a sound similar to a yelp before the man in front of him took out his side arm. However, before he could try to cut Kascarde, his life had been ended with a swift slice to the neck, courtesy of the former mercenary himself. As that man's body fell and began to twitch and gasp, a plentiful amount of blood began spurting from the wound on and in his neck. Then another lightly clad man rushed towards Kascarde.
    "Arrik!" The man yelled looking at his apparent friend then angrily at Kascarde. "Damn You!" He hastily took a swipe at Kascarde, missing, which unfortunately for him left an opening. Kascarde took his sword in both hands and lifted up his blade with force, pushing through what resistance the man's arm gave, and making him a would be amputee, if he were to survive. The man screamed as Kascarde started to move his sword toward him again.

    The sword went through the man's chest.

    The soon to be corpse reacted violently trying to slash at the enemy in front of him, before coughing up blood, giving up, and being kicked off of Kascarde's sword.
    'Driven by his emotions, poor kid.' Kascarde thought as he shifted his eyes toward another one who came towards him. "Hah!" he readied himself, but was interrupted by a soldier grappling him from behind. "!"
    "Hurry! Kill him! Kill him!"
    Kascarde shook the man off of his feet with a growl as the other charged toward him with a sword pointed to kill. Which it did, as Kascarde managed to spin himself so that his back pointed out towards the man charging. The sword went through the grappling party's back and Kascarde managed to shake said grappler off before he was too stabbed. As the charging man panicked and tried to get his sword out of that fellow Almoth knight of his, Kascarde brought his sword to and through the right side of the man's lower torso, forcing him to take a knee. Kascarde then took his boot to the soldiers skull, promptly knocking him out. Kascarde did no more to him because he knew the man would likely bleed out before he ever woke up again.

    So came another man, one who had apparently lost his sword and shield in the scramble. He caught Kascarde's blindside with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Unfortunately for him, he also fell clumsily onto the rocks and before he could get back up, an allied soldier had stuck a knife through his eye socket. Kascarde had gotten back up on his feet, making sure he could see the closer heroes. Then continued on to do what he did best.

    After a while he had ended up in a rather clear area and assaulted a knight who had caused his arm to bruise. In retaliation he had dented the man's helmet uncomfortably twice with his shield. The knight in return had seemingly began to uncontrollably suffocate, making wet and muddled sounds of disarray and bringing his hands to his helmet. Kascarde had taken this as an opportunity and cleaved off his head, then brought his sword down on another who probably planned to get the jump on him. Then man fell with an injury across his chest.
    "W-wait! Please!"
    Kascarde got ready to slice the man again.
    He reared his sword backward to kill this man, who still apparently had the will to live despite seeing his fellow knight's headless body spaz out, but was interrupted by a burly fellow, who was possibly an entire foot taller than Kascarde (and he was pretty average in height...) clad almost entirely in foreign armor, save for a few soft looking spots. This man had a greatsword and brought it to Kascarde who had narrowly blocked it and was dragged a few inches. Kascarde had grunted. "What?"

    The soldier who had been sliced across the chest took this as an opportunity to flee.

    "Rrgh Brawny scum..." Kascarde muttered. "...A Berserker? Heh... So you're why this area seemed so clear of troops..."

    "...You are a hero of Tarabon, are you not? I had expected much more."

    "Expected? More?... How original... I am Kascarde." He pushed the Berserker's sword from him and hopped backward, taking a ready stance. "It matters not how strong you are, or think you are, you will not win."

    "Kascarde! Hero of Tarabon!"
    The heavily armored man began to walk toward the aforementioned man, taking his own weapon into both hands. "I am Ghirraaf of the noble family of Waen! And a hero of Almoth!"

    He lifted his greatsword by his right side.

    "Your name shall be known only with its end!"

    "Prepare to die!"
  20. Bjarke had not enjoyed the week long march, the amount of time spent walking when he could have been fighting made him angry. Many of the soldiers were aware of his anger as he often took his frustrations out in small bursts against unruly soldiers. The day they made it to the frontlines of war Bjarke was excited, in a perpetually good mood. He stood behind the left infantry on the field and smiled as the armies pushed forward against each other. Bjarke ran with his greatsword in his hands and pushed to the front of the lines. He rushed forward with his shoulder plate bared against his enemies. His greatsword held behind him. As he rushed forward he noticed a young warrior, no more than 16 in front of him. He cared not and tucked low, ramming his shoulder into the young mans stomach. He heard the sound of the young mans scream and stood. The young man screamed louder, his weight tearing his innards against the spikes. Bjarke tucked his shoulder down and let the boy slide off the spikes before lazily swinging his greatsword through the boys throat. Bjarke saw more men ahead of him and happily charged in, he swung his sword wide, giving himself a small birth as the men dodged his sweeping blade. From these men he saw an archer knock an arrow and let it loose towards Bjarke, the large northern man quickly dipped his head backwards and felt the arrowhead cut his lower neck lightly. Bjarke felt his anger and rushed forward with his greatsword swung high. One of the men aimed a pike at Bjarke's belly, Bjarke brought his greatsword down in a swift circular motion striking away the pike. Using the same rotation of the greatsword Bjarke swung at the man and cut through the mans collar bone. Effectively planting the greatsword in the mans limp body. Bjarke struggled to rip it free before the next man came at him with a billhook.

    "Die you sorry cunt!" The man shouted.

    The blow scraped Bjarke's shoulder, giving him the impetus to tackle the man. Bjarke dived on top of the man and slammed a fist down onto the mans eye. In the mans moment of confusion Bjarke smiled broadly and reached down into the mans eye socket with his forefinger and thumb. The man wailed in pain and Bjarke pulled until the eyeball was loosed. While the man was screaming Bjarke crushed the eyeball in his hand. A man came running from behind Bjarke with a sword in his hand, before the newest man could strike down on Bjarke a Tarabon soldier brought an axe to his stomach and then beheaded the man. Bjarke smiled at the Tarabon soldier with the eyeball still held high in his hand, the soldier gave Bjarke a look of disgust and got back to his duty of protecting his fellow men. Bjarke looked back down at the screaming man and reached down into his mouth, wrapping his fingers around the mans lower jaw bones and ripping it from its socket and tearing the flesh that held it. He raised himself on his knees and shouted down into the face of the disfigured man. Bjarke stood and looked around himself, he pushed his hair out of his face with his bloody hands matting it to the top of his head. The scene around him was one of great and glorious war, this was his home. Looking around he saw Kascarde, one of his fellow heroes. The two had become briefly acquainted during the long march here. Bjarke saw a big man, from his position he could hear the man announce himself as a noble. Bjarke smiled and walked over to the corpse that held his greatsword in its chest. He put a booted food in the corpse's chest and wrapped his hands around the handle and wrenched it free. He looked at the big noble bastard and judged the distance between the two.

    Bjarke grabbed his greatsword by the hilt and blade, holding it beside his head like a spear. He took a few steps forward then let the sword go and extended his arm. The blade sailed through the air as Bjarke ran toward the noble, the blade landed at an angle in the armor clad mans neck. Bjarke slowed his run and bent down next to the man, holding him by the hair and his hand wrapped around the greatsword handle again.

    "Killed by a filthy savage," Bjarke said before rotating the blade through the mans neck and pulling up against his hair. The mans head came off of his body with a squishy popping sound before Bjarke dropped it to the ground beside it and planted his greatsword in the pedestal that was now the mans neck. Bjarke was always one for the theatrical. He flashed a smile to Kascarde and drew the small twin axes from his belt.

    "Back to it then," Bjarke said holding them out to his side in an inviting gesture before hacking and slashing his way through the mass of Almoth soldiers, cutting his way further into the thick of the battle.