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Author Topic: Western Gate  (Read 16427 times)
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« on: October 07, 2007, 02:14:59 PM »

Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin rode ahead of the patrol.  He preferred to be somewhat separate from the other men.  Truth be told, he would rather not have had the 25 soldiers with him at all, but as a Captain in the army, and at war with the orcs had made it necessary.  He was returning from his estate of Urimpaar, where he had visited with his young wife, Riztalyanna and their 3 year old daughter, Nayriss.  The smile had yet to disappear from his face as he recalled his time with Riz and "Critter", his pet name for Nayriss. 

He recalled that when she was born, early and in a labour that nearly cost Riz and the baby their lives, the first time he saw her, she was so very small, and so very red.  She almost did not look human at that point.  How he had prayed, to Kor'och, to Nechya, to any god or goddess that he thought would listen.  He pleaded with them, he threatened them, he bargained with them.  He prayed that if only they would live, he would gladly give up any future happiness he might have.  He would have gladly given his life then.  Then, as if in answer to his prayers, they both lived; the woman who had stolen his heart the very first time he saw her, and this tiny creature, this tiny "critter" that entered their lives.  It was a miracle.  From that moment, he took not one day for granted that he had them.  This because, deep in his heart, there was a fear that gripped him.  One day, the gods would come for what he promised them.  They would come for him.  Until then, he would love Riz and Nayriss like it was the last day of his life.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a shout from on ahead.  It was the guards that patrolled the walls of Remusiat.  They were shouting orders to the soldiers below, to open the great western gate.  Altario brought his horse to a halt and waited patiently.  The great gate swung open slowly, groaning against the burden of movement.  Iron attached to oak, imported from the south, and another layer of iron on the inside.  Fully fives fores thick, a double door, meeting in the middle.

Altario had always been impressed with the engineering feat that made up Remusiat's defenses.  Not protected by one wall, the city was guarded from attack by two walls and an outer defensive barrier.  The outer defensive barrier was a series of trenches, earthworks, and a stone wall that measured 5 peds thick and 8 peds high.  At regular intervals of 25 peds, there were towers equipped with ballistae. 

The inner defensive barrier was a double wall.  Here is where the engineering genius was displayed.  Each wall was 10 peds thick and 15 peds high, separated by a gap of 5 peds.  In addition, the outer wall was built so that it leaned outward at a 45 degree angle.  This created a very hard area to knock over from the outside, as any direct force would be directed away from the wall.  Then, even if the first wall was breached, the second wall, being so close to the first, would create a bottleneck, for men storming the wall.  They could be easily hit by arrows from the second wall defenders, as well as boiling oil could be dropped down on them.  To get a battering ram in this small area would be next to impossible without first clearing a large area of the first wall.

The western gate, was also a work of engineering prowess.  It stood on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the harbour.  The access therefore was restricted, so that siege engines would be very hard pressed to maneuver into place properly.

When finally the gate was opened, Altario urged his horse forward.  He noticed one of the guards ambling forward, a bright smile on his face.  Altario returned the warm smile.  "Sargeant Mallowart, it is good to see you in fine form today."

The Sargeant was elated.  It never failed to amaze him how this Captain could remember nearly every soldier that he came in contact with.  "Tis great to see you back safe and sound, sir.  I trust everything is good on the home-front?"

Altario nodded.  "Yes, thank you, Sargeant.  The wife is pretty as ever, and the daughter is growing like hrugchuk grass."

The Sargeant nodded knowingly.  "That is great, sir.  But, sir, I have a message from the general.  He would like you to report to headquarters as soon as you get back."

Altario nodded his thanks.  He grinned to himself.  Why did Graviaro always leave that message whenever he came back to Remusiat?  Where else would he go?  The old man was very definitely stuck in his ways.  "Is my brother in the city?"

The Sargeant hook his head.  "No, sir.  He is on patrol.  I should think he will be back sometime today. He has been out for three days now."

Altario raised a hand in farewell and continued on his way, looking back to see the soldiers following him.  He sighed.
« Last Edit: October 07, 2007, 02:26:19 PM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #1 on: October 09, 2007, 06:55:43 AM »

Sargeant Mallowart

Sargeant Mallowart stared out over the horizon from his perch on the wall overlooking the western gate.  It was getting near time that he would be getting off duty, and his thoughts were on a meal and a warm fire.  He would be heading back to the barracks, for he owned no home here.  Nor did he have a family.  The army was his family.  Each of these rapscallions under his command were his sons.  He loved each one like a father would.  And he was hard on each of them, as a good father should be.  But each had made him proud countless times.

A movement on the inside of the gate caught his attention.  Someone was down there.  Who could it be?  He sighed and headed for the stone stairs that led from the parapet to the ground.  Once on the snow covered ground, he could more easily make out the figure ahead of him.  He pursed his lips.  Another worried soul. 

Mallowart approached the young man, and his gentle eyes hinted at an understanding.  He looked up toward the man, who stood a full two peds in height. "Excuse me, Master Garret, but I have still not seen any sign of Master Denrykmar.  I assume that is why you are here?"

It was no secret that these two young men, Garret and Denrykmar were friends, and the two were known to find themselves in much mischief.  However, they were both considered two of the best scouts the army had.  Mallowart had nothing but respect for the two of them.  He knew he could never have done that duty.  It took a special kind of man to be able to go out into the wilderness and brave the dangers involved for days at a time by oneself.  And although Garret was new here, he was one one of those special people.  It was must have been what attracted the two boys to each other.  They had the same demon may care attitude.
« Last Edit: October 09, 2007, 06:59:40 AM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
Garret Arroway
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« Reply #2 on: October 09, 2007, 07:38:27 AM »


     Garret walked slowly thought the snow toward the Western Gate, trying to hide a worried look. His silver wolf, Shadowfoot, padding at his side, the great beast seemed to love the northern climate. The young man was wrapped in a heavy winter cloak that he had recently acquired after his last cloak had been ripped to shreds. The large wall that guarded Remusiat loomed ahead, the wall an impressive display of protection. Well that’s the best he could describe it. The large wall had been build for the purpose of protecting the people and it did just that. Garret let his mind drift over the design of the wall and defenses of Remusiat. This helped somewhat though he still couldn't rid himself of this nagging feeling.

     He had only known Denrykmar for a while but they had become fast friends. The trained scout had spent many long days helping Garret better himself in this field of work. It didn't matter that Garret hadn't known him long though. He knew the trails of being out in the wilderness and Denrykmar was supposed to have been back earlier this day. None would blame Garret for worrying about his friend. He walked closer, his mind suddenly off the wall and back on his troubles.

     He could see men walking the walls, their dark forms standing out against the clear background of the Frozen Wastes. The land was aptly named. Garret wondered if even now Denrykmar road towards the gate. He continued on his way, watching as a man came down form the wall and walked toward him. Garret recognized the older sargeant and grinned slightly as he walked up to the man.

     The older man looked up toward Garret and said, "Excuse me, Master Garret, but I have still not seen any sign of Master Denrykmar. I assume that is why you are here?"

     "Aye, Sargeant Mallowart." Garret said, his small grin fading with that news, "Mind if I take a watch upon the walls, sir?"

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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #3 on: October 09, 2007, 08:20:32 AM »

Sargeant Mallowart

How could he say no?  If it had been one of his men out there, he would feel the same.  He nodded slowly.  "Of course, Master Garret.  I'll walk with you.  I've still got about another hour before I'm off duty."  He began to walk toward the stairs.  He blew into his hands to warm them.  That wind was cold.  It should be warmer by this time of year. 

He looked with bit of trepidation at the large wolf that followed obediently behind Garret.  It was a beautiful animal, but he doubted he would ever get used to it.  "Try not to worry.  But I know you wont listen."  He chuckled.  "It's not like I haven't seen him here pacing, waiting for you when you decided to be a day late."   They made their way to the top of the parapet, looking out over the frozen wastes.  If Denrykmar was out there, they would see him. 

One of the privates approached, a steaming mug in his hand.  He held it out toward Mallowart, who shook his head.  He glanced at the younger man.  "Soup?  Its pretty good, and it will keep you warm.  You aren't used to being up here for any length of time.  That wind will cut right through you, straight to the bone."  He spoke from many years of experience.
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Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
Garret Arroway
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« Reply #4 on: October 09, 2007, 08:51:39 AM »

     
     The Sargeant nodded slowly, "Of course Master Garret. I'll walk with you. I've still got another hour before I'm off duty."

     With that the man turned and headed back toward the stairs, blowing into his hands as he went. Garret followed him, wrapping his cloak tighter around him, knowing the bitter cold would be worse at the top. Shadowfoot followed close behind him, the great wolf seemed to be growing slightly board with the city. Garret knew that the silver beast loved being out scouting with him. Garrets only fear was that Shadowfoot would become too accustomed to the northern environment. His thoughts were put aside when the Sargeant started speaking again as they headed up the stairs.

     "Try not to worry. But I know you won't listen." The man chuckled, "It's not like I haven't seen him here pacing, waiting for you when you decided to be a day late."

    Garret grinned, "Aye, he near lectured me to death the last time. And as you said, I won't listen. He's probably just found him a bit of trouble and narrowly escaped with his life. He has a problem with finding those kinds of situations and I like he likes them too much for his own good."

     They made their way to the top of the parapet, Garret looking out across the Frozen Wastes. The young man hoping for even the slightest hint of his friend riding back across the barren waste lands, but there was no sign. One of the privates approached them, a steaming mug in his hand. He offered it to Mallowart first, the man shaking his head slightly. Then the man glanced at Garret.

     "Soup?  It's pretty good, and it will keep you warm. You aren't used to being up here for any length of time. That wind will cut right through you, straight to the bone." The man said, speaking from experience.

     Garret graciously accepted the mug of soup, responding with simple thanks. He slowly sipped the soup, warmth seeping back into him. He walked beside Mallowart for a while like that, watching the field of snow as they went. Garret glanced back to see Shadowfoot following behind. Garret turned back toward Mallowart.

     "Do you like your job?" Garret asked the man, a simple question to end the growing silence.

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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #5 on: October 09, 2007, 12:27:14 PM »

Sargeant Mallowart

Mallowarts eyes widened.  Did he like his job?  What job?  This was his life, it was no mere profession where he spent time each day performing in order to get enough money to put a meal on the table each night.  If he did anything other than this, he would shrivel up and die.  He had been in this army since he was 16 years old, nearly 40 years ago.  He knew of no other way to live.

"That is like asking a bird if it likes to fly, or a fish if it likes to swim, boy.  No need to ask, for it knows no other way.  That is what I am.  I am a soldier, always have been, always will be.  They day that I'm not, is the day I ride at Kor'och's side."  He shook his head slowly, amused at the wisdom yet to be learned by the young.

Though old, his eyes spotted movement on the horizon.  That had to be Denrykmar.  It was approaching quickly.  Mallowart smiled and pointed. "There we go.  I think we have our little lost wison calf."  There, now all was good again. 

The smile faded slightly from his lips.  Something was not quite right here.  He stared harder against the snowy background.  The shadow he saw was not a rider coming toward the city, it was many riders, maybe 10 in all.  The one in front, ahead of the others, that would indeed be Master Denrykmar, for Mallowart could not mistake that fine horse of his.  But the others?  They appeared strange to him.  As if they weren't horses, nor even icesnout.  They almost looked like... he glanced at the wolf waiting patiently behind Master Garret and his blood went cold.  "Kor'och's grace," he whispered, hoarsely.

"Orcs!"
Logged

Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
Garret Arroway
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« Reply #6 on: October 09, 2007, 01:01:59 PM »


     Garret saw the man's eyes widen and he hopped he hadn't offended him. After what seemed like a moment's contemplation he began to speak.

     "That is like asking a bird if it likes to fly or a fish if it likes to swim, boy. No need to ask, for it knows no other way. That is what I am. I am a soldier, always have been, always will be. They day that I'm not, is the day I ride at Kor'och's side."  He shook his head slowly.

     A small smile spread across Garret's youthful face. He then spoke, looking off in the distance as he did so. "It must be nice, to wake up each morning knowing where your life is going and where you belong."

     Garret saw movement out on the horizon, and he noticed that Mallowart had seen it too. It looked to be a man on a horse approaching quickly but Garret couldn't be sure yet. But as he drew a little closer a grin spread across Garret's face.

     "There we go.  I think we have our little lost wison calf." The older man said.

     Then Garret noticed the man's smile fade. Garret felt as if someone had just poured cold water down his back. He turned back toward the wastes and then saw it. Behind Denrykmar were more riders, ten maybe eleven in all. Denrykmar and his mount ahead and the others behind seeming to give chase.

     Garret heard the old man next to him. "Kor'och's grace."

     Then his voice raised the call, "Orcs!"

     Garret looked again and it was indeed orcs riding on giant black creatures that looked like wolves. Without thinking Garret turned to Mallowart.

     "Sir, I know the wall is yours but a suggestion of archers up here." Garret said. Then in a stronger tone he said, "And open the gates, I'll not leave Denrykmar out there alone."

     Garret pulled his sword out and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. It wasn't the smartest thing since the stone was slight but all reason was lost now. He waited for the gate to open before rushing out. Shadowfoot was beside him, and Garret waited as the horse and wargs approached. Right now he desperately wished he had a bow and if he somehow lived through this he was sure it was worth the money. But dang him if he was going to leave his friend out there alone.

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Before you kill him, think of what you take from him. Remember what it is to be alive.
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Denrykmar Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #7 on: October 09, 2007, 01:47:27 PM »

Just a little further he told himself.  He could make out the western gate in the great wall that surrounded the city of Remusiat, and for the first time in 10 strals, he began to have hope of making it.  These orcs that were chasing him were desperate to catch him, as desperate as he was to escape.  Up until now, it had been a stalemate of sorts, him neither gaining nor falling in the race to the city.  If he could just get a little further, he could warn the city of the danger to come, but if he were to fail....

He could not think about that.  There was no such thing as failure here.  With that, he kicked Zekar's flanks once more; he had to coax just a little more out of his companion.  He felt a thud just behind him, and quickly checked over his shoulder.  An arrow had embedded itself into the cantle of the saddle, just missing hitting him in the back, or Zekar.

The wind whistled through his hair, and he was sure that his nose and chin were frostbitten.  He had long ago lost feeling in his fingers as they gripped the reigns under thick pinniphide gloves.  His toes ached from the cold.  But he was not the only one suffering.  He could hear Zekar’s laboured breathe over the howl of the wind, and a foamy lather was built up on the great horse's chest.  He wanted to stop, to let Zekar rest but...

Only a few hundred peds to go.  Just a little further.  He could make out movement on the parapet and he grinned determinedly.  They had to have seen him by now.  He was almost safe.  He then noticed movement in the gate itself.  It was opening!  He was going to make it.  They were coming out to save him.

There was a lurch, and Denrykmar felt himself jolted in the saddle.  Something was seriously amiss.  In what seemed like an eternity, but was less than a blink, he heard Zekar scream out, and his head disappeared from Denrykmar's view, and he felt his own body propelled forward.  Though he tried to hold him into the saddle, it was impossible and he sailed through the air.  He tried to see Zekar as he, fell but in the brief second he could make out a form, all he saw was a jumble of legs and snow being sprayed about.

The world went black.  He was still alive; he knew that from the intense pain that coursed through his chest, then his neck, and finally his back.  He knew he had hit the frozen surface of the plain, and had bounced quite unceremoniously.  He rolled, trying to tuck his limbs close to his body, hoping to avoid breaking bone, but as he lay there, somewhere between consciousness and blissful slumber, he could not tell.  His body screamed its agony at him, and he knew that part of it was his own voice moaning in pain.

After a moment, he realized that the darkness that enveloped his world was his eyes closed, squeezed shut in a futile attempt to drown out this waking nightmare.  He opened his eyes, and the sky beckoned him, the sun a gentle caress on his cheek.  He wanted to lie there, to not move.  But this was an illusion.

Groggily, he sat up.  Suddenly fear gripped his heart.  It was not the fear of the orcs, carried on ferocious wargs that caused this blood chilling, but rather the heap of black hair that lay motionless not 6 peds from him.  He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the horse's side, tears streaming down his frozen face, mixing with the clumps of ice and snow that stuck to him.  He dropped to his knees, oblivious to the arrows that sailed dangerously close to him.  He lifted the horses limp head onto his lap.  "Don't you die on me!" he screamed, his voice near a hysterical level.

There was an impossibly long moment where Denrykmar just knew that Zekar was dead.  And his mind screamed in protest.  Then, with the slightest of movements, Zekar’s head moved, and a soft whinny escaped its throat.  Denrykmar was inconsolable now, the tears streaming freely down his face. Now, however, the agony was replaced by rage.  He gently lifted Zekar's head to the snow, and stood up.  He pulled his sword from the scabbard attached to the saddle.  He stepped away from the injured horse and braced himself for death.

The first warg and rider were nearly upon him, the orc favouring a short sword to the bow in order to finish off the human.  Denrykmar felt a tugging at his side, and felt a searing pain.  The fangs of the creature, he told himself, as he kept his eyes on the more dangerous weapon, while the onrushing warg passed him.  The short sword came down in a vicious arc, that Denrykmar met with his own sword.  The sound of steel on steel rang out over the frozen wastes, and the shock sent pain pulsing through his shoulders, but he resisted the urge to buckle and pushed back. 

The orc was caught off guard and fell heavily into the snow, his balance having been disrupted by the attack.  He shook his head and climbed to his feet quickly and turned to face the human.  With a snarl resembling that of a wild animal, he ran at Denrykmar, sword held at a dangerous angle.

Denrykmar met the orc, and parried the thrust, but rather than trying to thrust in return, he just simply threw his body at the orc.  The two of them crashed to the ground, rolling in a heap.  Denrykmar ended up on the bottom, looking up at the orc, who wore a confused expression on his snout like face. 

The orc looked down dumbly, trying to figure out why he wasn’t going to be the victor.  To his horror, he found the human’s sword buried into his abdomen.   He then growled one last time.

Denrykmar felt the entire weight of the orc fall against him, but he was too tired to resist.  He lay there, covered by the stench covered body of the dead orc, and waited for death to come.
« Last Edit: October 09, 2007, 02:05:23 PM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Garret Arroway
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« Reply #8 on: October 09, 2007, 02:13:52 PM »

     Garret watched in horror as Denrykmar's horse stumbled forward, sending its rider bouncing off the ice. The man didn't move for a few moment, and Garret spared a glance upward to see archers assembling on the walls. Archer's weren't going to be much help now though. Garret saw Denrykmar move over to his horse, the orcs and their mounts still coming. Garret saw his friend alive and he lost the little bit of caution and patience left in him.

     Garret took off running toward his friend who was weeping over his horse that appeared dead. Then the man stood and drew his sword and waited for the oncoming orcs. Dang him, Garret thought as he ran faster. Shadowfoot running by his side was a blur of silver.

     He watched as the first orc reached the man and wounded horse. Watched the fight though limited vision as he kept running. His heart felt as if it would burst but he kept going. Black spots clouded his vision but he wouldn't stop. He saw the orc and Denrykmar fall to the ground, struggling for a moment, and neither of them rose. Garret was approaching the second rider then, and he lifted his sword in heavy hands preparing to fight. Shadowfoot took the beast out from under its rider, his strong jaws catching hold of the beast's leg.

     The orc was thrown and fell to the ground slightly dazed. Garret rushed up and stuck his sword through the back of the being neck, then turned and did the same to the preoccupied mount. The beast only looked angrier and turned on him. Just as Garret thought it would end Shadowfoot jumped in and set his jaws firmly around the creatures neck and ripped its throat out while it's attention was on Garret. He looked around, ready for the next opponent.

     As if coming out of a haze, Garret staggered a bit, trying to catch his breath. Suddenly he remembered why here was out on the Frozen Wastes fighting orcs and their dang wolf-like mounts. Denrykmar. Garret rushed over to the place where his friend and the orc had fallen, everything else around him unimportant. He reached them, and rolled the great beings body off him, revealing a blood-covered Denrykmar.

« Last Edit: October 09, 2007, 03:19:26 PM by Garret Arroway » Logged

Before you kill him, think of what you take from him. Remember what it is to be alive.
Quote: Robin Hobb
Vincent Varkatzas
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« Reply #9 on: October 09, 2007, 03:26:24 PM »

Vincent was wandering through the plaza near the western gate. He paused to look at some interesting daggers, picking one up, he put it straight back down when he felt how off the balance was. It's not even sharp he thought as he looked at the rest of the daggers lying on the stall counter.

"Orcs!" The cry went up from the gate and Vincents head snapped up. Before he even thought about it it he was running toward the gate and drawing his moonblade. He dodged through the crowd and joined the soldiers heading for the gate. The moment the gate opened he sprinted through and saw the enemy. 10 orcs astride their fearsome wargs were charging toward them chasing a man Vincent recognised as Denrykmar Shialt-eck-Gorrin.

He ran toward the orcs spinning his moonblade in a forward arcs. He ducked to the side as a warg leapt to him and he spun round his moonblade flashing toward its neck. The warg came crashing down taking its rider with it. Vincent jumped forward and ran his blade through the orcs back. He then turned to help a soldier who was being overwhelmed by a orc who had dismounted. He blocked the orcs mace and forced it to the side before flicking back his wrist and pushing the silver blade that sprung forth into the orcs throat, spilling blood over the ground.

He straightend up and turned round to survey the battle. There were many of their own soldiers lying amongst dead orcs. He ran to the nearest fallen soldier and began checking for signs of life and cried out, "We need a healer!"
« Last Edit: October 09, 2007, 03:39:36 PM by Vincent Varkatzas » Logged

Yes, right now I say farewell
but one day I will return with a smile
as I spit on your grave!

Vincent Varkatzas
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« Reply #10 on: October 09, 2007, 04:34:28 PM »

Denrykmar lay in the snow, the weight of the orc making it hard to breath, and the stench making him glad he couldn't.  His eyes were closed, and his body ached.  He knew he was going to die, and there was no point in watching it happen.  Either he would feel an arrow or sword pierce him, or the fetid breath of a warg chewing his face off would be his last sensation.

He lay there, listening to the sounds of battle.  Clashing steel, shouts, screams, growls.  He was glad his eyes were closed.  Still, if he was gonna die, could they not get it over with?  His backside was beginning to freeze.

He heard the sound of footfalls near him and he braced himself for the inevitable.  Instead of cold steel plunging into him, he felt the weight of the orc being lifted from him.  Just a preamble he told himself, and still he waited.

Finally, he could stand it no longer, and he opened one eye and peered up.  Not believing what the one eye told him, he opened the second.  It couldn't be!  Looking down at him was Garret, concern spread about his lips.  Not knowing if he was smiling outwardly or whether it was just how he imagined he was smiling, Denrykmar's eyes twinkled through the pain. "Do you know how beautiful you look right now?"  he started to laugh, but the pain made him gasp again.  He was just thankful to be alive.
« Last Edit: October 09, 2007, 04:37:22 PM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Garret Arroway
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« Reply #11 on: October 10, 2007, 06:28:18 AM »

     
     Garret looked at his friend, covered in blood, lying on the icy ground. A great weight seemed to lift as Garret saw the slight rise and fall of Denrykmar's chest. Garret let out his pent up breath. The man's eyes were closed and he seemed to be either knocked unconscious or had lost grip on reality due to blood loss. Garret was about to kneel down and pick up the man when one eye opened. The second was close to follow and Garret found himself looking down into his friends piercing blue eyes. He seemed to be in shock for a moment then the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

     "Do you know how beautiful you look right now?" Denrykmar said, and tried to laugh though it quickly turned into a gasp of pain.

     "You look horrible," Garret said, grinning down at his friend, "you crazy danger seeking … Oh I'll save you the lecture for now, a battle field doesn't seem like the right place."

     Garret peered around, looking up just in time to see another orc coming toward him. In a flash of silver Shadowfoot took the rider off his mount, taking care of the orc but leaving Garret with the snarling creature. The creature leapt at him and Garret pulled his sword up, the great beast impaling himself upon the steel, the weight and momentum of the creature driving Garret to the ground. He rolled the wolf-like creature off him and pulled his sword out of the things chest going back over to his friend.

     "Let's try to get out of here with our lives," Garret said, extending a hand to Denrykmar. As he did so Shadowfoot came trotting up, blood soaking the fur around its muzzle, at least I can safely sat that orcs dead, Garret thought.

« Last Edit: October 11, 2007, 12:06:43 PM by Garret Arroway » Logged

Before you kill him, think of what you take from him. Remember what it is to be alive.
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #12 on: October 10, 2007, 01:40:23 PM »

Sargeant Mallowart

The older sargeant was impressed as the young scout shouted out orders, the same as those he was shouting to his men.  He had natural leadership qualities.  But that was only a fleeting thought as he directed the archers to begin sending a hail of arrows towards the oncoming wargs and their vile riders.  He glanced to the gate, which was groaning its protest at being opened.  He waved the men down below to get themselves outside the gate, and to be ready to receive Master Denrykmar.  He noticed that Master Garret had set himself at the head of them.  Typical.

He looked back to the chase, where his heart leaped in his chest when he saw Denrykmar's mount crash to the ice and snow, sending rider into a painful tumble of arms and feet flailing.  Would his men get there in time?  He looked to see Garret outdistancing the rest, but all of them seemed poised to make it to the fallen scout just a moment too late.

Suddenly, another figure caught his eye.  He could not believe his eyes.  Some wison's ass had left the safety of the city gates and was trying to join the soldiers in the battle!  What kind of fool was this?  Dammit!

He had no time to pay attention to the stranger.  He only hoped the fool lived so he could throw him in the stockade.  He returned his attention back on the scout, and he saw that Denrykmar was standing, sword in hand, awaiting the first of the onrushing wargs.  He looked so damned pitifully small out there alone.  It was impossible to see what exactly happened, but the orc fell from the warg, and Mallowart let out a small cheer.  It ended abruptly when the orc regained its feet and the two figures became one in a deadly embrace. 

"Move dammit," Mallowart whispered when the two figures failed to show any signs of life.  Still, nothing.  This was too much.  He saw that the archers had felled five or so of the wargs and the rest were now being engaged by the soldiers on foot.  He could no longer watch from the safety of the parapet.  He turned and hurried down the stairs, nearly slipping before reaching the ground, but balance restored, rushed out the gates.  Another few orcs and their worgs had been dispatched, and the others had turned and fled.  He grunted in satisfaction.

He hurried to where Garret was dragging a dead orc off of Denrykmar.  It was obvious that the young scout had been injured, and a cold shiver rushed through him when he saw all the blood, despite the young man's blase' attempt at humour.  Mallowart knelt down and gingerly pulled back the torn layers of clothing, revealing the wound the warg had inflicted.  He pried apart the folds of skin, letting the wound bleed profusely.  It helped against infection from those heinous beast's bite.  It would need stitching, but it was not serious.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  "Ach.  There you had me all scarret for nothin'.  Get up you lazy cur, and quit crying for your momma."   It was as close as he was going to come to showing how relieved he was. 

"We need a healer!"

Mallowart did not recognise the voice and his head snapped around to see where it came from.  Dammit!  One of his boys was laying in the snow, karkrimson fingers fanning out from his body.  Mallowart arrived there quickly.  He knelt beside the boy, checking his wounds.  He smiled at the lad, his eyes misting.  "Well, now, Zaggins, what have you gone and done?  If you think this is gonna get you off of wall duty, you have another thing coming."

The boy shook his head weakly. "No, sargeant, I know how much you count on me."  Blood trickled from each of the corners of his mouth, and his eyes no longer focused.

Mallowart swallowed hard.  "Zaggins, boy, you get some rest.  I'll watch the wall for you."  His voice cracked, but the boy was no longer able to hear it.  Mallowart was silent for a moment, and he blinked back a tear.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up and saw a strangers face.  Grief manifested itself in anger.  "Who are you?  And what in Kor'och's vengeance were you thinking getting yourself out here?  Are you daft?  I've a good mind to throw you in the stockade!"  He glanced about at some of the other soldiers who had gathered to see their fallen comrade.  "Take him away, before I do something I'll regret.  Hold him until I can question him."
« Last Edit: October 10, 2007, 01:41:51 PM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
Vincent Varkatzas
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« Reply #13 on: October 10, 2007, 03:05:41 PM »

"Who are you?  And what in Kor'och's vengeance were you thinking getting yourself out here?  Are you daft?  I've a good mind to throw you in the stockade!", said the soldier Vincent assumed was the Sargent. "Take him away, before I do something I'll regret.  Hold him until I can question him."

"My name is Vincent Varkatzas and I am bounty hunter bought to these regions by the very beasts that lie at our feet", Vincent replied and to emphasize his point he held out the hilt of his bloodstained moonblade toward the Sargent.

"I will go with your men but the moment they attempt to put me in the stockade they will find I am no longer interested in helping your city", Vincent said this with a hard edge to his voice. Good soldiers had fallen today and he was willing to do his best to make sure no more meet the same fate at the hands of the orcs. "I feel for your fallen comrade", Vincent said as he began to turn away and walk through the soldiers with a gleam in his eyes that only comes from the spilling of a enemy's blood.
« Last Edit: October 10, 2007, 03:07:53 PM by Vincent Varkatzas » Logged

Yes, right now I say farewell
but one day I will return with a smile
as I spit on your grave!

Vincent Varkatzas
Denrykmar Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #14 on: October 11, 2007, 01:24:02 PM »

Denrykmar lay there for a few moments.  His momma?  Where did Mallowart get that idea?  He would show him.  He then tried to roll over to get up, but a fresh coursing of pain forced him to lay down, a wave of dizziness washing over him.   Perhaps just a moment longer.  What did that old bugger know of wounds anyhow?  Fool of a city guard probably never had anything more serious than blisters on his feet before now.  How dare Mallowart make light of his wounds?  He would let Altario know about the man's rudeness.

A cold shiver went through him.  Zekar!  Denrykmar once again tried to get up, this time with wobbly success.  He rushed over to the horse, ignoring Garrets attempts to help him.  He dropped to one knee beside the Kor'och fey Mologh.  "No, you can't die," he pleaded.  He lifted the horses head, which was breathing in laboured gasps.  Denrykmar searched for signs the big stallion had been hit by an arrow, but there was no mark, no blood, nothing to suggest that's what happened.  Laying the head back in the snow, Denrykmar crawled through the snow, ignoring his own discomfort to check Zekar's legs.  A broken leg would be even more serious than an arrow wound.  He checked one after another, but each leg was sound.  For a moment, Denrykmar wasstumped, but then he figured out the cause of the horses distress.

He grabbed hold of the reins and climbed to his feet.  "Get up, boy, come on," he coaxed, to no avail.  He pulled harder on the reins and clicked his tongue on the top of his mouth.  "Zekar, get up!"

Failing once more, Denrykmar physically pulled on the leather straps, willing the beast to move, but only its head raised from the snow, its eyes weary.  Temper started to flare.  "Get up you damn animal!  You wanna just die here in the snow?  I know you are tired but you are not giving up on me!"  With that, Denrykmar curled the reins around his fist and used the loose end as a whip, striking the flank of the immobile horse.  "Get up!"

Once, twice, three times.  On the fourth strike, the animal whinnied its protest and struggled to its feet.  Denrykmar threw himself at the horse and hugged it close, tears streaming down his face.  "Damn you Zekar.  Don't scare me like that."  He hated to be cruel, as he had never before whipped this noble stallion, but if he hadn't, surely the horse would have died.  Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

At that, Denrykmar looked over to where Mallowart was kneeling beside a fallen soldier, tears of his own streaming down his face.  Suddenly he understood.
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