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Author Topic: Southern Gate  (Read 15304 times)
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« on: October 21, 2007, 08:34:38 AM »

Traylon Grillus

The young guard, Traylon, looked out over the frozen wastes.  Nothing could be seen, but that was not unusual.  There was a thousand square strals of nothing out there.  Why should today be any different.  He closed the six fore wide gate, and signalled the gatekeeper to lower the long beams into position, into the catches on either side of the door, to hold it shut against almost anything.  True, it was not nearly impressive as the Western Gate, but young Traylon was proud that he was the commanding guard here, his two stripes signifying his rank of corporal.  Another couple of years, and he might join Mallowart and Kressfall as a sargeant over on the Western Gate.  That was his dream.

He stepped back into the guard house here.  it was warm and he took off his pinnipskin gloves and warmed them by the fire.  It was the start of another long boring night.  Nothing ever happened at the south gate.
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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.
Mathis Mallister
Righteous in Wrath
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« Reply #1 on: October 22, 2007, 07:56:22 AM »

Mathis was always more comfortable in his armor, but here where the sharp pulses of wind were each a volley of icy arrows, he welcomed some steel to soak up Injèrá's warmth. It wasn't much - a hauberk of strong double-link mail, with every other accoutrement made of leather trimmed in warg fur - but it was more than most Remusian soldiers could hope for, and the bits of fur were signs of previous victory over the orcs, which no man of the Ice Tribes would fail to notice or respect. Nor would the folk of Remusiat fail to notice his mount; one of their own, though it had never seen the homeland of it's breeders before.

Ghelgath had been bred by the horsemen of the Lanrul's Lot specifically for war, though the gelding that curtailed his aggressive behavior toward other horses did nothing to stop him from biting and flailing against any man who dared approach him. Mathis always took a quiet delight in watching stablemasters struggle with his steed. Only two men had ever been able to break him and make him their own - his first rider, a man named Stovaas, and Mathis who had inherited him on the formers death. Standing at fourteen and a half hands, the beast was unremarkable in size, but in his black color, entirely without exception and his attitude he was just as imposing a his master.

The southern gate was much smaller than the western, barely escaping the designation of a postern and seeming positively insignificant for a portal that broke the city's impregnable defenses. Of course, it didn't need to be anything special, for the lay of the land dictated that any serious attack from the south would need to come on the city's west side, the foothills of the Gathorn mountains rising unpredictably in south resulting in treacherous ground not suitable for the use of required siege towers. Mathis admired the old Remusians for their engineering prowess, and wondered how such petty differences could be proving so much of a dilemma to their modern descendants.

Somewhat bewildered at both his own musings and the lack of any human activity at the gate, he announced his presence, and that of Prince Timeras of Remusiat, Heir to Araman the King in the North. The men would likely leap up from their positions to stand at attention and rush to open the gate to the wastes beyond, which suited Mathis Mallister, who was not accustomed to waiting.
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take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone
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Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #2 on: October 22, 2007, 11:12:36 AM »

Gundioc’s passage through the city of Remusiat to his inn, short a distance as it was, seemed a journey cursed with longevity. The man could rarely be trusted with Mathis, let alone by himself. Whether it was the twinkling of a gem, the savory smoke of something being cooked or nearly any woman who braved to raise their eyes to his, he stopped to admire all. His sort of perverted admiration, filled with harsh words, bawdy tongue, and ever-threatening eyes, but it was still close enough to the actual thing to be known as such.

His and Mathis’ paths never crossed as he made his slow journey northward, not that he was looking for his brother at all. Buggering bastard must have taken some back street. Gundioc knew that Mathis was very well on his way to the south gate by now. He shall be waiting a bit there, won’t he? Gundioc chuckled to himself before escaping the distraction of the streets and entering their most recent temporary residence.

The Boar’s Beard was, in every sense, filthy. The walls were covered in various animal hides, some in a condition better suited on a live animal. Stains and mold infested the whole of the common area. It stunk of sweat, blood and beer, just the kind of place the Mallisters were akin to. Gundioc trudged up the stairs, where he knew he would find an empty room, his armor and weapons already laid out for him on his bed. Mathis may annoy the piss out of him, but he was helpful, Gundioc had to admit that.

He shed his bear cloak, the acridity of the animal’s death still strong on his shoulders. A pleasant smell to the man, and one he would not soon forget. He reached a hand behind him, massaging the grooves in his lower back where once that very same beast which owned that skin drove its murderous claws into him. He sighed and grasped the thick band of boiled leather before him. More a belt than anything, considering all the fastening it took to afford Gundioc’s tremendousness, it was nevertheless ample protection, as evidenced by the numerous scars and deformations it possessed. Most of Gundioc’s armor was so simple, bands of leather, fastened here or there where he knew enemies would be most likely to strike; a veritable patchwork of flesh upon flesh. He grinned at the thought and tugged his pelt about him once more, the face of the ferocious animal lying on his right shoulder, snarling at any who presented themselves to him.

He felt light, or lighter than one of his stature should feel when armored, and remembered that he was wearing no chain. Normally he would have a great, long shirt of mail, extending to his knees, but its effectiveness had been compromised in the fight with the Cartashian bear. He reprimanded the animal with his famous caustic verboseness and flicked it on the nose, making a mental note to visit the Remusian merchant quarter when he returned from showing the Prince how to kill animals. “Orcs!” he spat, and fastened a simple mace to his belt, before turning and hefting his pride over his shoulder; a warhammer, immense tool of death as it was, its head discolored with blood and its haft dangling with various trophies from the battles Gundioc had participated in. He offered a few quick words, mostly to himself and that whatever power that be grant him a mound of womanly flesh should he for whatever reason die, and left the room, stopping downstairs to fill his numerous skins with ale, wine and the strongest rotgut they could manage.

Content that he would be drunk by the time he reached any signs of life outside the city, he departed from the inn, atop his rather unremarkable mount. A workhorse proper, but of such a stature that it was able to carry Gundioc. He had come by it his second year in the Lanrul’s Lot, and it had served him more than well. Though no warhorse, it did not shy away from battle, merely was slow and plodding, much to Mathis’ chagrin and Gundioc’s appreciation. The ride was short, and he soon spotted the dark form of his brother, and called out to him, “Hey! You great piece of whore-filth some would call a man, what do you think you’re doing, leaving your poor brother behind?” He sauntered his horse alongside Mathis’ own intimidating animal and patted the beast on the neck before dribbling ale into his own animal’s mouth and then finishing the skin himself. He wiped his whiskers with the back of a leather-laden arm, confident that Mathis would be positively annoyed at Gundioc’s trauncy.
« Last Edit: October 22, 2007, 11:16:13 AM by Gundioc Mallister » Logged

He who makes a beast of himself
gets rid of the pain of being a man.
Khel
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« Reply #3 on: October 23, 2007, 01:33:40 AM »

Timeras

Timeras spotted the two easily just as Gundioc seemed to reach the gate as well. Surprisingly, not too many people paid close attention to the three, on their mounts and carrying more weapons than any civilian would on a normal day. Pushing Junari at a walk so he rested beside them, Timeras watched as a bored-looking guard seemed to laze about his guardhouse. Oh, would he be in for it soon enough.

The Mallisters were seemingly ready for battle. Timeras leveled a cool gaze at them, wondering what they expected, and what he maybe should expect once they exited the gates. Obviously the horde was not in view yet, so it would be quite a ride to catch a confirming glimpse, but did they expect to need all that armor? Half heartedly Timeras eyed the gate. He supposed they did, and he should have been prepared for the same. With a calloused hand he reached up to run through his hair, soft and quite unlike the greasy matting of Gundiocs locks. Adjusting his clothing a little nervously, Timeras’ blue eyes shone in the sparse light of the day and he smiled a grim smile at the two men.

They knew what they were doing. They were much smarter than him in this arena and Timeras knew it. Pushing Junari towards the guardhouse, Timeras dismounted and sauntered into it, catching the guard in his lazy activity. There was a fire, and it was warm within. The guard immediately bowed, recognizing the Crown Prince. Nodding in return, Timeras tried to wave off the formalities. Speaking gently, he looked directly into the eyes of the guard, ”You will open the gate for these two men,” he indicated the two still mounted outside, ”Watch closely for their return and make haste to their re-entry. It is imperative that you do this.” The guard nodded mutely and with satisfaction, Timeras exited the guardhouse.

Leading Junari by the reigns now, Timeras strode two the two men. He had to admit Mathis looked rather regal in his attire. Most Remusians wore simple leather armor, but Mathis seemed to go above and beyond, and he looked good. Even Gundioc gave off an impressive stature, stench and all, as he sat atop his sturdy mount. Although the two were fairly plain men, despite their ability to be noticed without trying, Timeras thought their armor revealed much about them; much that he would hope to learn.

Grinning a toothy grin up at the two, Timeras spoke clearly to them, ”Brogan will be in your service. Don’t be too hard on the boy, he admires you two,” Pausing for a moment, Timeras wasn’t sure admire was the right word, but he moved on, ”You two alone will exit and scout out the horde… Brogan will wait for you here and relay your news to me.” Timeras’ voice was deep and firm as it was mostly, and he spoke in more of a command than anything else. It would befit these two much more than himself to exit the gates of the fortified city and put their lives in danger. After all, he was the Crown Prince. As Timeras flashed them a grin and a wink, he mounted Junari.

They offered, and Timeras would pay them well. It would be of no trouble for the two to accomplish this mission on their own. After all, they hardly considered him their authority figure anyway. ”Oh, and don’t dawdle. Plenty of blood will be spilled, return in due time without following any… you know, rabbit trails.” Timeras glimpsed Brogan in the crowd and nodded approval. Digging his heels into Junari, the horse leapt forward and down the wide street—north toward the Tower. Ahh, it would be good having his friends around; Timeras knew it may infuriate them to consistently do his bidding. Somehow, that made the notion much more fun. 
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #4 on: October 29, 2007, 01:49:41 AM »

Traylon Grillus

It was both exciting and nerve wracking for Traylon to be addressed by the crown prince himself.  Now, he had been left with watching for the return of the two men who had accompanied the prince.  He had to wonder who they were, for they were no Remusian.  They were, to say it most politely, ruffians and scoundrels, by the look of them.  What would the crown prince be doing with them?  And what were they doing for the prince?  It made him wonder, but he put it out of his mind.

He looked at the young boy who awaited the strangers return.  "Well, son, why don't we step inside the gatehouse while we await your friends return.  No sense freezing to death." He gently took the boys shoulder and led him to the warmth of the little enclosure, where it would give him a chance to ask some questions of the boy.
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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.
Khel
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« Reply #5 on: November 20, 2007, 04:54:40 AM »

Timeras

Timeras made it only a short distance back into the heart of the city before halting Junari and gazing back towards the Western gate. It was not Brogan, nor his friends he worried about... it was his city. Remusiat was more than able to fight nobly and easily against Orcs. But how many? When his horde arrived would they be prepared? Worry etched itself in visible lines along his young face. Shaking his head lightly, Timeras jostled Junari's reigns, ready to urge him towards the Tower, when people started to recognize him. Although he was the Crown Prince, the people did not treat him as a celebrity or superior, but as a friend. Hands reached up to shake his own, friendly shouts could be heard down the narrow street. Grinning broadly at those who greeted him, Timeras hopped down from atop his horse and continued his way back to the Tower on foot. The talk of his people was something he enjoyed more than anything, and even word of petty events within families, or the newest weather predictions did not burden him, but brought him joy. How saddening it would be to see his city war-ridden and burdened with such a devastating event.

Brogan

Having been steered into the guard tower, Brogan's eyes narrowed and he shrugged the hands off his shoulders. He was to sit here and await news from those disgusting, cruel men? Perhaps they were adequate warriors and friends to Timeras in the past, but how could the Prince allow them to invade and corrupt their city now? Sitting a little huffily down in the warm room, Brogan brooded on the predicament he found himself in now. He would only stay and serve these men because he loved his Prince so. And, he reluctantly admitted, he admired these warriors more than any Remusians he had seen yet.
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Gundioc Mallister
The Bear
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« Reply #6 on: December 09, 2007, 09:23:27 AM »

Somber shades of blue and gray grasped at the tired walls of the city. Injera hid behind the clouds, allowing the darkening shade to molest Remusiat without the threat of being seen. Gundioc hadn’t even needed to open his mouth before the sounds of chains and the creaking of great hinges pierced the waste. It was almost like a separate world beyond the walls, quickly swallowing the foreign sound before allowing itself to be inhaled by the open maw which was the southern gate.

Slight bustle greeted the brothers as they entered, the sounds of cobbled streets, burning wood and voices, alien for a moment. Gundioc shook his head, scrunching up his face in pain and annoyance at the stinging sensation his motions caused him. The loud thud of the gate shutting finally alerted him to the guards nearby, who had apparently been trying to capture the attention of the two since their entrance.

He slid bodily from his mount, his girth impeding him and making the process something rather difficult to watch. One might even pity the man if he was not covered in blood, an obvious sign that he was a killer. The guards slowed as they approached, allowing him to wiggle his way down until his feet rested solidly upon the ground. He waddled angrily over to his brother, who still sat atop his mount, disregarding the Remusian men.

“C’mon you bastard,” he reached upward and pulled at his brother’s arm, which hung rather loosely by his side, hand barely grasping his quarry any longer. Gundioc sighed and pulled much harder this time, turning and heaving his brother from his mount, situating him over his shoulder. Bow and various other trinkets fell from his brother’s person, which he would concern himself with later. The pain of being handled so was too much for Mathis, and willing himself not to moan, he cursed Gundioc most viciously, to which Gundioc could only reply with a smile, “Now, what would our poor, dear, dead mother think of that piss coming from your mouth?”

It almost sounded as if Mathis chuckled to himself, but soon Gundioc felt the warmth of spittle on his neck and knew that his brother had only been gathering enough to assault him, a sign to quit wasting words and time. He laughed the discomfort away through shivers as the fluid crept downward and chilled in the air and hauled his brother towards the guardhouse, Mathis’ groans and curses worsening as they drew near. The guards, befuddled by the whole exchange, merely followed the man, rushing to open doors and clearing an area where the wounded brother could be laid. Gundioc was not a merciful nor a benevolent caretaker and let his brother slip from his shoulder, whereupon he struck the floor brutally, and finally free of the oaf’s grasp, he lay, almost peaceful, despite the crippling pain.

He addressed the guards briefly, telling them of his brother’s wounds and dismissing his own before hounding them for alcohol of any sort. One guard excused himself, while the other knelt beside Mathis, readying him for the procedure. Gundioc crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, chortling at the exchange. Though Mathis was no where near as feisty as he when wounded, he was rarely ever wounded as much, and so to see him in a state of weakness was extremely humorous. His musings though, were short-lived as a high-pitched voice broke the coziness of the guardhouse.

“Misters Mallister, Misters Mallister!” Gundioc’s eyes widened in annoyance. Buggering drelldung! That foul progeny of some whore! I had forgotten. He turned towards the boy, who he now remembered had been stationed here to greet and receive news. How could the Prince do such a thing, report to a boy?! It was insulting on every level. Brogan, in his excitement, stopped barely a ped away from the larger Mallister, looking up inquisitively, “Did you - oh... What happened to your face?” The ignorance of this child filled Gundioc’s ears and mouth with foulness and before he could even begin to think of the consequences he unfolded one arm and lashed forward violently, striking the lad with the back of his still-leather-bound hand.

“What happened to your face?!” the giant roared, lashing still with strings of curses about how real men who fought in real battles sometimes had real wounds. Brogan cringed and fell to his knees, sobbing offensively. “Get up, you brat,” Gundioc spat, the altercation spurring a guard, who’d witnessed it, over to them. “Sir, he’s just a child, you don’t have the -“ he began before Gundioc rounded the ugliness that was his face on him, “Don’t have the what?! The right?! There’s an army of orcs coming down to rape your women and children, and probably you too, you scrawny excuse of a man!” His voice was much-too-loud for the confines of such a small place and the guard physically shied away from him. “You heal him. You get me.” It was not a question. Gundioc grabbed Brogan by his neck and wheeled the boy outside to where their horses still waited.

“You go to the Prince and you tell him...” his voice trailed off as an idea entered his head, “You tell him twenty orcs were found and felled!” Gundoc had at first thought to say fifty, but knew the number to be far too easily seen through. Though twenty... Ten apiece and one of them moderately wounded... Aye, nigh believable. “And I swear boy, you keep upsetting me and I’ll use your body as a shield when the rest come.” He hefted the still-crying child effortlessly up and set him upon the saddle of his own mount, scanning the trimmings to make sure nothing important remained on the beast. Satisfied, he slapped at the wounded flank, “Bring this horse back to me, I’ve unfinished business with it.” Plodding along with the disheartened child who now bore a face much like Gundioc’s, the horse made its way northward, toward the tower.

Gundioc frowned, bending to retrieve Mathis’ fallen things and tugged at Ghelgath’s reigns. The Kor’och fey Mologh snorted in disgust at being handled by such a monster as him, but after much swearing, tugging and finally a threat to treat its arse rather forcible with a hammer, head first, the creature begrudgingly allowed itself to be pulled away from the cobbled stone and into the nearest stable, where Gundioc, sweating from the difficulty of the task, flopped down into the straw and pulled another aleskin from his body.
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He who makes a beast of himself
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #7 on: December 10, 2007, 10:33:49 AM »

Traylon Grillus

Traylon was sitting at his small desk, filling out his report for his shift, occasionally glancing up at the boy and giving him a friendly smile.  Inside, however, having the boy here made him nervous.  Usually, by this hour, he would be having his feet up on the desk, taking a quick nap, or be engaged in a rousing game of dice with one of the guards.  But, with this kid here, a personal attendant of Timeras, no less, he dared not take any chances with not looking like he was at work.  Little bugger was probably going to report everything back to the prince.  Traylon sighed, and returned to his report.

All at once, the door was jerked open, allowing the chilled air to rush inside, carrying with it, a mountain of grotesque flesh and blood.  Traylon watched with widened eyes as one of the two men he was to watch for, unceremoniously dropped the other onto the floor.  He stood up from his desk and took a step forward to see what was going on, listening as the larger man succinctly summed up what had happened.

Traylon saw from the corner of his eye the child go toward the standing man, calling out to him.  Traylon was horrified to see the large man bring his considerable hand back across the child's face, send the boy reeling.  An outrage built within him.  “Sir, he’s just a child, you don’t have the -"  Traylon was stopped mid sentence as the big man whirled on him and began to threaten him.  Feeling himself blanche, he withered under the large man's murderous glint of eye.  As he listened, only the words "orc" and "rape" registered in his fear addled mind.  He blinked a few times, before stepping to the door.

"I'll... I'll go get the doctor."  He hurried from the room, not even bothering to grab his coat.  He knew he should have sent one of his subordinates, but the grotesque man within just scared the shite from him.
« Last Edit: December 10, 2007, 01:06:50 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 #8 on: January 05, 2008, 04:24:24 PM »

Zaven Wissone fey Honogh

The door to the small guardhouse opened and two bundled figures entered quickly.  The first to drop the hood on his cloak was a grizzled older man; in his hands a leather bag.  He surveyed the scene, then stepped closer to the prone body of the warrior on the floor.  Unceremoniously, he nudged the body with a toe, and once he ascertained that the man was still alive, he grunted and looked to the younger man with him.  He considered for a moment before taking off his coat.  Then he threw it casually into a corner.

Once he was able to move about properly, he knelt down next to the wounded man.  He pried at the wound with wrinkled fingers.  Zaven Wissone fey Honogh had seen this type of wound before.  An orc arrow.  Shattered, and no doubt poisoned.  He glanced back up at Traylon, who was still bundled up near the door, too afraid to come further into the room.  Zaven had no time for such foolishness.  "Traylon, get over here and help me get this man's armour off." 

It was command, which Traylon obeyed after several furtive glances to the door, afraid that the other man might return.  He took off his coat, which he had to borrow from the old doctor, having nearly froze to death when he left here without his own.  He knelt beside the fallen warrior, opposite the surgeon.

Zaven nodded.  "Get his top off so that I can get at the wound.  I need to see how much damage has been done this man."  The two worked for a few moments, tugging and removing articles despite the pained grunts from the wounded man.  When he was able, Zaven examined the wound in greater depth.  It was not as bad as he had feared, though the reddened and puss filled wounds alerted him to poison.  Not surprising.  "Go find this man's friend.  If he is a drunkard like you said, he might have some wine I could use to counteract the poison."  Zaven looked up when Traylon hesitated.  "Hurry up, fool!  If this man dies because you stayed here cowering, how do you think the man will treat you then?"
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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.
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #9 on: April 26, 2008, 10:21:23 PM »



Jahzhur led his men through the city, quite aware of the long looks he was getting from the populace of the city.  They were not so much looks of alarm, as they were curiosity.  These people had seen military men many times, and a large detachment heading through town was not a sight uncommon to them.  As he passed them, he found himself often calling out.  "Go back to your homes.  There will be trouble this night.  Stay indoors for your own safety."

There would some that would obey without question, having been through this before.  Others, displaying typical Remusian resolve and stubbornness, would ignore the warnings.  That really was not his concern.  Others would control that.  His focus was the southern gate, which was now coming into view.

He looked to the gatehouse, a small building.  He would use that as his command center.  He waved at the men behind him to take up positions on the walls.  He, however, strode toward the gatehouse, and passed the two incredulous looking guards waiting outside.  Jahzhur stepped through the door, and saw two men at a table. "Who's in charge here?"
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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.
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #10 on: June 06, 2008, 07:34:05 PM »



Traylon stood from the desk where he had been giving orders to one of the wall guards.  This disturbance caught him off guard and it irritated him.  He stood quickly, an angry retort on his lips, but on recognizing the Dragguer, he stopped any sound from spewing forth.  Instead, he cleared his throat nervously.  "I'm in charge here."

What was the Dragguer doing here?  It had to mean something important.  This time of day, no patrol would be leaving the city.  Before the Dragguer could answer, Traylon heard a yell from the guards outside.  All the men rushed outside as a guard atop the wall was franticly trying to get their attention.

"Orcs!  Orcs are attacking the city!"

Traylon's blood froze in the chilled night air.  This explained everything.  Suddenly, the young soldier felt very aware of his inexperience and looked toward Jahzhur with pleading in his eyes.  "What do we do?"
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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.
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #11 on: June 22, 2008, 03:28:07 PM »



Hurrying outside, Jahzhur's eyes narrowed.  It was starting.  Now he could show what he was made of.  This morning, he had been the commander of the City Calvalry, then not only did that get taken away from him when Arrock Altario took command, but now, even his standing as second in command was in jeopardy, with that foreigner getting to play Altario's second.

Here, this place, this night, he would get a chance to show that he too was deserving of his own command.  No one would interfere here.  "To the wall!  Take the wall!"

Grabbing his spear in hand, he rushed toward the stairs that led up ward, just as the first calls of ladders came from above.  As he made the top of the wall, he could see that orcs already had a foothold along the ramparts.  Jahzhur swore under his breath.  This was not good.  They could ill afford to lose this section of the wall.  He shuddered.  If they lost this spot....

Not while he still breathed, he vowed.  Not while he still breathed...
« Last Edit: June 22, 2008, 03:29:01 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.
Cár'ámn Glasajcín
Raín Glasajís
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Elf, Tethinrhim


« Reply #12 on: June 24, 2008, 12:07:56 AM »

Cár'ámn’s elven ears perked as he heard the orders to man the walls.  The words hung in the chilly air and sent a shiver up the warriors spine.  There were no walls such as these to guard in the forest he hailed from.  No, they lived in the tops of trees and moved about freely without such protective barriers. But that was a world away from where he now was quickly moving down the now almost deserted streets of the city.  Many of the residence had begun to heed the cries of warning issued and had heard the sounds of war.  They chose the safety of their homes over the uncertainty of battle but not Cár'ámn.

He could hear the fresh snow crunching under his feet as he approached the last intersection before arriving at the gate.  Despite the freezing cold his hart burned for the opportunity to prove himself as a warrior.  He checked the string of his bow one more time and that his weapons were free of obstacle, then increase his pace towards the wall.  Looking about he searched for whomever would give him permission to aid in cities defense than decided there was no time for instructions.

Surly, he thought, if I climb up and began to fight no one would oppose it.

Reaching the steps, he heisted but only long enough to string his first arrow. Gripping his recuve bow tightly in his let hand, he allowed a faint grin to cross his face.  In his right hand, he held the string and the notched end of his arrow, ready to unleash his first assault when in position to do so.  His soft leather booted feet began their hasty assent to the ramparts as a faint smile crossed his face.  He could hear the cries from those already engaged in battle and the clamor of steel against steel as he neared the top. 

As the elf neared the top of the steps, a young man caught his attention, with dark hair that fluttered in the cold breeze and dark eyes that caught the glint from the distant stars above. He was dressed as if in a position of authority and ready for battle, his face set with a look of steady determination.

“Where can you use a bowman sir,” he asked as he continued to scan the stone embankment for a possible breach, “I am at your service.”
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ghun
K'ahn'uck Ch'ron-P'thok K'arg
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Orc, Rhom-Oc


« Reply #13 on: June 16, 2009, 02:51:07 AM »

Ghun stopped atop a knoll. His handpicked army of one hundred of his best men stopped behind and besides him. Ghun watched as the archers of the main body began shooting their arrows toward the western gate of the human city. The humans answered back with their own volleys of arrows and with the advantage of height and being able to see the torches that main body used to see were killing and wounding more than what Ph'ragh's archers were doing to the humans.

Ghun shook his head in disgust. Ph'ragh thought he was good commander. Telling Ghun that he had to look at big picture. All Ghun could see was more of his kin being killed needlessly. Ghun had seen many times when he fought with his cousins how to battle a walled city. Ghun had tried so many times to tell Ph'ragh, but Ph'ragh would not listen. Only two good things Ph'ragh has done that made sense to Ghun. The capture of the dwarves and then tunneling under the gate and giving him control over attacking the southern gate of the human city.

Ghun's men had followed the main body crunching through the permafrost. The main body pounding on drums in rhythymn of their marching feet. The drums were supposedly to bring fear to the humans but Ghun suspected that all it did was tell the humans where their army was as well as the hundreds of torches that they carried to help them see in the darkness.

When Ghun and his men reached a certain part of the field Ghun had his men put out their torches and then they silenty left the main body and headed stealthily toward the southern gate only stopping when Ghun did and keeping low to the ground.

Ghun looked up and saw a bright moon in the clear sky. The cold wind that blew off of the mountains did not bother him. He twisted his head and glanced at his army. He smiled. They were good hardened veterans of battle. Each one hand picked by himself. Each one ready to die for Ghun and his cause, not Ph'ragh's, but his. The complete extermination of the humans.

After gathering his bearings he waved his army on. They were close now. Soon...soon the humans know the meaning of...fear.
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Ch'ron-P'thok...all shall die!
ghun
K'ahn'uck Ch'ron-P'thok K'arg
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Orc, Rhom-Oc


« Reply #14 on: June 23, 2009, 02:05:26 AM »

The southern entrance to the human city was much smaller and a bit less protected than the western entrance. Ghun studied the situation as he had been taught by so many commanders over the years as he had travelled and finally found his cousins who accepted him, the Losh-Oc, and there he learned not only to fight, but he became a Warlord in his own right among them, but his heart belonged to his own people so after many years he returned and he did not return alone. He brought with him his own magician and an army that would follow him to their deaths if need be, and some did when they fought their dreaded foes the dwarfs as they went around the mountains toward his homeland.

Upon his return he had hoped for a huge and welcomed reunion but found none. Instead a new leader had arisen and had actually made all of the different tribes of the Heath to work together. Though Ghun had hoped to be the leader he was willing, for the moment, to be this orc's second in command in this battle with the humans.

Ph'ragh was too slow, and did not listen to his other commanders, which meant him as far as Ghun was concerned, for the other commanders were dumb. When Ph'ragh told him what plans he had for him Ghun was very happy indeed. He was allowed to use his own personal army to attack the humans and Ph'ragh just told him to get inside. Ghun had more plans than just to get inside though. There was a human that Ghun had not killed that morning. A human with a metal plate of armour protecting his chest. A human who was going to die this night!

Ghun looked around and saw red glowing eyes staring back at him. He could see in his mind's eye that behind each pair of those glowing eyes were teeth that were sharpened and ready to eat and taste human flesh. His army were Losh-Oc.

Ghun raised his club and then swinging it over his head let out a Warlord cry and the rest followed and the attack on the southern entrance began!
« Last Edit: June 23, 2009, 06:18:22 AM by ghun » Logged

Ch'ron-P'thok...all shall die!
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