Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/January

From BattleMaster Wiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search

4th January

Night -- Poryatu

Nicholas Archival

They had nearly arrived home. The journey to Poryatown, now reaching its end as the small force passed through the pastures and townland of Poryatu, had been almost entirely uneventful. In contrast to the fighting near Shinnen, the waves of monsters and that final charge of the Sworn Swords, all seemed calm - a curious tranquillity given that malign forces had been rampaging through Earth's Hall not long ago. Despite the lack of action and excitement, or perhaps because of it, Nicholas was pleased. It was reassuring to know that upon his return home, there would not be monsters to contend with. He had only spent a short time in his Noble Manor Square estate, but it had been a place of warmth and comfort; though well-acquainted with the martial life, even he could anticipate a soft bed and a warm hearth.

After a quiet hum of thought, the Knight raised a hand and the column paused. Captain Raedfleda, a spindly woman but a few years older than himself, approached with her bow ever in hand. He regarded her for a moment in expectant silence, before she remembered her manners and bowed her head. He had always allowed a small amount of informality with the Swords... but they were gone, and the Archival Arrows were in their place. Nicholas would not make the mistake of over-investment this time. With curt mannerisms, he requested the report.

"All seems as it was yesterday, and the day before that, Sir Nicholas," Raedfleda began. "It looks like we'll be arriving at Poryatu at first light. The men are eager to set up shop in their new headquarters, so they'll keep on marching 'til we get there."

He considered this for a moment, before offering a brisk nod in response. "Very good, captain. Ensure that they are presentable upon our arrival. I would not want to arrive at the estate in which I govern with a poorly-assembled force. The peasantry must know to respect and admire me, and the men in my service. That would be all."

The Captain bowed once again, before striding over towards the men, to whom she shouted instructions. Nicholas took a few moments to observe her work - she was diligent, loyal and expressed his orders with an attitude which brooked no dissent. It was what he needed; with the Swords he had led them personally, with no captain beside him. That was probably his greatest folly. These men were born and trained to serve Luria in their way, just as he was in his. They served to fight and to die for the cause and for the realm, if that is what it took. It was Nicholas' duty to command, to direct them to where the Empire needed them most. It was not his duty to become friends with them. No doubt it was a short path to a nobleman losing his edge, should he fear overtly for their lives.

It would be callous to disregard them and their livelihood, something he intended to never do... but as he had learned in Grodno, to become too close spelled disaster all the more.

10th January

Day -- Poryatu

Kaguya Fujiwara

A final volley of arrow fire put flight to the last four beasts plaguing Grodno, allowing Kaguya some time to contemplate the battlefield as the skirmish wound down.

It was a strange experience to be fighting on "foreign" soil. True, Kaguya had made the momentous decision to land in the Hegemony and had sworn allegiance to the Lurian Throne, but settling in to new peoples and cultures was taking some time. Each day that passed she learned a little more about her new home, but the traditions of Yamatai remained strong within her and her household.

So much that she did not know!

Kaguya could not help but compare, for instance, the stark difference between her troops and those of her comrades. The heavyset jerkins and mail hauberks of the other men were still a novelty compared to the brightly painted oriental lamellar that she and her retainers wore.

But it is they who will find us exotic, she thought, keeping in mind that she was the foreigner here.

Their ways of war were so different. Of course her retainers were bowmen as per Fujiwara tradition, but everything about Yamatai and Lurian archery was dissimilar; from the type of bows used, to the stance, even down to the base philosophy.

"All the men are accounted for, milady."

Kaguya waved to acknowledge the captain's report and noticed with some consternation the tremble of anxiety in her hand. She gripped the reins of her horse quickly, hoping to hide the moment of weakness.

Perhaps - though she would never openly admit it - she was not as acclimatized to warfare as she had hoped.

Yet another thing for the young Fujiwara heir to get used to.

At peace though the realm seemed, battle was never too far away.

Jeffrey Birkenhead

Monsters. Again.

After Lurias great campaign came to a temporary halt just before the walls of Shinnen, Jeffrey saw it necessary to tend to his troop's equipment. Bows were starting to break, armor beginning to fall apart, even cuttlery was at the point of looking flimsy. Had he pushed forwards, he could not have guaranteed for his troops fighting capabilities.

The travel through Sulorte to Grodno took about a day. Everything went smooth, there were plans of not halting at all and directly continuing towards Outer Giask, but those plans were cut short when reports came in of a Monster horde. A minor nuisance, thanks to some allied forces being in the region as well.

Allied... forces. What allegiance did those strange looking bowmen hold, with their outlandish equipment? Jeffrey's never seen anything of the likes. Jeffrey ordered his captain to hail that unit, and not long after and quite surprisingly, it was established they were loyal to Luria Nova, and preparing to confront the Monsters as well.

Without further ado, as the forces of evil were approaching quickly, Jeffrey's archers took positions next to those strangers, and the battle commenced. Drowning in a hail of arrows, the monsters did not stand a chance. One could even have pitied them, as they looked increasingly similar to pin cushions throughout the skirmish. They were soon exterminated, while the noble defenders did not even receive a single blow! Yes, archers are valuable assets, one that Luria was pitiably short of.

Following the inconvenience, Jeffrey made arrangements for asking the leader of those strange soldiers for a meeting, noble to noble, and now was waiting for a response.

Night -- Poryatu

Kaguya Fujiwara

"Milady?"

The Fujiwara captain stood at the eaves of Kaguya's tent. She dared not enter. No one would; Kaguya's private space was sacred unless invited into. The Fujiwara lady had made that clear from the beginning.

No response. Overhead, a flight of birds against the darkening sky. A cricket chirped in an adjacent bush.

Godmona cleared her throat again.

"Ahem, milady?"

A voice from inside the tent. "...Yes?"

"A letter came for you this afternoon, milady. From Sir Jeffrey Birkenhead, milady, Knight of Askileon."

"What is his entreaty?"

"He wanted to meet with you, milady."

Kaguya emerged from the tent. She had dispensed with her armour, having changed into a carnelian yukata that complemented the evening sun very nicely.

"Then perhaps we should go and meet with him, my captain."

"Yes, er... That is to say... He's left Grodno, milady."

"..."

"He left before this evening's battle, milady."

Kaguya's eyes narrowed. "And you permitted his invitation to tarry without response?"

"You, uh, you were in your tent, milady!"

"You could have knocked."

"But yesterday I did, and was told that you weren't to be disturbed..."

"Yesterday, I was in contemplation. Today, I am not. Tomorrow is not yet here. The difference is like Spring is to Winter. You, too, must learn these like the seasons."

"But I can't... I mean, you... I just... I mean, yes, milady."

"Very well, my captain. You shall prepare a response to the Honourable Knight that we would be most pleased to take tea with him at the nearest opportunity."

"...Yes, milady."

The two women parted ways, one serenely back into her tent... the other to the barracks, a perplexed frown plastered firmly on her face.

William Fitz Roberts

Imprisoned

Sir William rode at the head of his beleaguered forces into the capital of Luria. The last week had been the opposite of successful. His unit had been decimated in numerous battles, he had been prevented from returning to the Rangers in their campaign to retake Shinnen, and, worst of all, he had been captured. He thought back to that day

It should have been a perfectly normal battle. Let the archers do some damage to the monsters, charge in, and then let the infantry advance and mop up the rest of the monsters. Of course, that is not how it had played out. It still could not quite remember what had happened. All his memory revealed to him was the sound of horns starting the charge, and then laying flat on his back as the battle continued on around him. He could barely see anything from the visor of his helmet and, for reasons unbeknown to him, he was unable to stand. He had then heard voices talking excitedly, and grasping hands dragging him away from the battlefield. He had blacked out at this point, and when he awoke he was in some crude cell with an ugly face leering over him.

The conversation, if one could call it that, had been a simple exchange of insults that ended with William being bludgeoned repeatedly about the head with some form of cudgel and being demanded to give over 90 gold in payment for his release. This had been the order of the day for the next few mornings, insults followed by a beating followed by demands for money. It had begun to dawn on him that rescue wasn't coming and so had eventually haggled down the ransom to what little money that he had on him. Gathering his men, who had been scattered all across Sulorte, he had ridden through Grodno, attempting, unsuccessfully, to avoid the monstrous presence there.

The experience of the last week had taught him one thing: the security of parts of the empire was somewhat lacking and needed reorganising. All this he had conveyed to the Emperor, who had agreed to his new initiative with enthusiasm. Sir William looked back to the men and women behind him. They had fought had and well, but the realm had little use for their kind right now. He still had use for them over the next week, but after that they had more than earnt their retirement. He had it all planned out. Now all he had to do was to work out how to tell them that he had no further us of them. There were a few that he had genuinely bonded with. Two of them had been with him from the beginning, and had survived every disaster that the unit had experienced. Ah well, one last drink and then down to business. Service to the realm was far more important than personal camaraderie or honour, after-all

Dorian Pavus

Amidst the evening meal in Dorian's camp, he rang a bell to bring his men to attention. There was nothing the men were aware of, especially evident by Captain Franz's reactions.

"Ladies, gentlemen. This evening I must share something important with you all. I am not like the other Knights. For many reasons, of course. Many have long lines of heritage, but I am the first of my family to ascend. Perhaps I will be the last. But despite our ranks, our places in the world, we aren't so different. Many nobles watch their men charge off to war with little care, but not me. That is not the Pavus way."

He took a deep breath as the sun glistened on his dark skin, beads of sweat forming. He brought his right hand across it, removing it. Bell in his offhand, he walks around his camp shaking hands. The sharing of sweat was certainly strange. Yet oddly metaphorical. They bled together as they sweated together. And it would be impractical for some kind of blood brotherhood to be formed amidst a feast.

"It is with this hand that I - that we - change the world. The future of Luria Nova will be shaped by us. I am not just a knight - I am a hero. Your hero. A hero of the realm. And if that shall one day cost me my life, so be it. For the Empire. And I am not just words. That would be strange. I am preparing to restore the Order of the White Rose. Such qualities cannot be forgotten. Nor can such history. And at my side, you are all going to act as Luria's greatest men and women, one time or another."

The soldiers begin to applaud him, but there is one man that claps much more than the rest - Captain Franz. "You've always done me proud, Sir Dorian. And I look forward to spending a long time at your side."

"It would never be the same without you, Captain," Dorian nodded, "You're an essential part of my unit. And very... important to me. I would be disappointed if we had to part." he lets out a smile.

"I see. I feel much the same way. But let us finish up our meals. We are nearing Giask."

"You're right, Captain. Let's get to work."

11th January

Evening -- Ciarin Tut

Donald Augustus Allan

The last few days had been troubling. The momentum the campaign had regained not so long ago seemed to have faded, and all the while it seemed that everything was not quite right.

Some of the campaign's most promising Knights had swanned off, taking up bureaucratic work no less. Deciding rather to count bushels of wheat than to count the men in rank, perhaps they could no longer stomach the battlefield. Sir William had called for aid in Grodno and by the time Donald, and a handful of other companies had arrived, he had gone. Rumours of capture abounded, and that after some tribulation he had arrived safely in the capital. It was strange to think of that huge man being captured, the blow to his must have been harsh.

And yet, that was hardly half the story, stranger tidings had happened upon the armour. Apparently Sir Dorian was a hero of the smallfolk now, an example to us all. Although as far as Donald Augustus was concerned the man desired nothing more than to claim his six feet of earth, a highly coveted location in these times. So while fighting alongside Dorian, the man who desired a hero's death, came something even stranger. A Dame had joined the army recently, a foreigner from a foreign land with foreign customs. How had this women acquired her Knighthood? Was Luria pushing aside its own in favour of barbarians from Eastern lands? These were troubling questions.

But the most concerning man of all was the Marshal. Donald trusted the recently re-elected Imperial Marshal Lord Cador, but his last orders had been some time ago, and it seemed the army was losing purpose. Some were stationed in Grodno, some in Shinnen, some further west and some... well, Donald had no clue. The whole business was hardly befitting of the Hegemony of Luria Nova, that was for certain.

Donald looked down, his cup of wine had run dry: "Servant!" he yelled "fetch more wine, and be quick about it!"

"And get me my damn scribe as well!"

Dorian Pavus

After arriving in Giask, Dorian heard rumours of his captain having treasonous thoughts. Dismissing them at first, he decided it was essential to speak to him.

"Captain Franz,"

"Yes, Sir Dorian?"

"What are your views on the Empire?"

"It's entirely necessary and lawful. We all have our... concerns, of course."

"Like if a poorly-run rebellion succeeds, Franz?"

"Something like that, yes."

"If that law was removed, what would we have?"

"Justice. Mercy." Franz's smile holds sadness. "Freedom."

"Chaos." Dorian said. "Lawlessness. War."

Franz shakes his head. "Perhaps I have a more optimistic view of my fellow beings than you do. So you consider this a bulwark against others? For how long?"

"Explain."

"How long will you accept tyranny as a necessary part of the Empire?" Franz asked. "Until all resistance is silenced? Until all others are vanquished?"

"Perhaps your optimism isn't as strong as you claim." Dorian said. "The tone of a government is set by its leader. But Emperor Zajar will not live forever. When it comes time for his authority to be handed to another, I must be a senior noble to allow me to influence the choice of that leader."

"And do you expect that new leader to spread light into the darkness?"

"There is hope that he will," Dorian said. "But if others are victorious, that hope will be extinguished. Forever."

"Hope." Franz shakes his head. His stance holds no such hope. "I fear, Sir, that you're still dangerously naive on political matters." He lifts a hand. His body stance holding defeat. "I hope you're right. I fear you're wrong."

"We shall see."

"Some of us shall." Franz said. "others of us will be long gone."

"I see," Dorian said. "Then I expect you and the Pavus Guard will return home. Perhaps find my sister. Do as you will. You are dismissed. Permanently."

"But Sir-"

"There are no buts. Don't make this harder than it already is, Franz. We cannot do this. Not anymore."

Later that eve, Dorian was approached by an older woman. Grey hair, black skin, wrinkles setting in. It much contrasted the milky skin that Dorian had; its youthful glow, his auburn hair, his moustache. She holds a sense of intrigue looking at him.

"Yes?" Dorian said.

"Your unit has abandoned you. They took off and didn't look like they're coming back."

"I'm aware. I am planning replacements."

"Then look no further. Trajania is my name. Couple dozen or so others me at your service. Askileon Warrior Monks, no less. Fund us and we'll fight with you until the end."

"An interesting offer, Trajania. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why should I choose you and your people?"

"We are heroes in our own ways. And having a bigger her to serve would be ideal."

"Very well," Dorian said. "We'll work that out. You and your men will be known as... The Chimera."

Jonn Dodger

Time moves slowly for the dreamwalker, and so it seemed ages had passed since Jonn's eyes had last opened upon the waking world.

His soul again and again passed capriciously between the mortal world and the strange plane betwixt life and death, the realm of visions and illusions.

He flew like a bird without form across Dwilight, across the oceans and the lands beyond, watched realms fall and new ones rise, watched his young children grow in high halls of stone, stood witness to the deeds of friend and enemy alike. He breathed without breath the fresh sea breezes of Garuck Udor and the Dark Isle, the rarefied air of the Akesh highlands, the claustrophobic smog of Taselak, the humid reek of the Abakan swamp. And alongside and betwixt them all, he gazed into the plane beyond.

He walked with the father along the beaches of Ecsetuah, the last place he had seen him alive. They looked out over the strait to Nbasah as it had been in the days of his youth.

"Arcaea grows strong again," his father said sadly, and Jonn understood. "You must be mindful, my son." Jonn looked; his father now held his severed head in his cupped hands, his neck feebly spurting blood. "You are sure to meet my fate if the mainlanders have their way. Arcaea grows strong again. You must be stronger."

His father disappeared, and through the river mists a boat appeared just as quickly, and a familiar voice rang out. "Are you ready to learn the ways of the sea, Mistwooder?"

Jonn smiled to see Shintuk again, proud and swaggering on the bow of his longship. His heart yearned for another taste of their wild youthful days of adventure, but he knew it was not yet time for that voyage. He waved, and watched as the ship took to the strait like an arrow from a bowstring and faded into the blue distance, and yet it seemed to draw closer at the same time.

A familiar cackle rang out from all around him, and suddenly he was in the darkness of the deepest Mistwood, in a circle of standing stones. "Not yet ready for death, Jonn?" Fae asked mockingly as her stooped and wrinkled form appeared from the shadows. "You're just like your old grandmother after all. How long will you cling to this forsaken world? Two lifetimes already, you'll be as old as I before you know it!" A thousand ravens cawed and took to the sky, the beating of their wings like a clap of thunder in his ears.

But Jonn smiled as he replied. "A man does not choose his time," he said, "only what he does before it comes to pass." The old crone gave a cry of consternation and disappeared, and the trees parted and grew less dark and gnarled around him, until he found he was in a different part of the Wood entirely.

A familiar path was beneath him, and he turned a corner to find the old stone bridge that crossed the River Enlod just a short way from his childhood home. On its edge sat Merritt and old Habbo, Kellan's father, and they looked up and smiled as he approached; Merritt in his quiet and inscrutable way, and Habbo with his dimwitted but earnest eagerness.

"Are you ready, Warleader?" Merritt asked. Jonn knew for what without asking, and together they crossed the bridge, and suddenly his sword was at his side.

Three cities he entered, their great gates of iron flung wide for him. The streets were lined with the dead, and their sunken faces gazed upon him as he made his way through to three high castles. Within each, a feasting hall and a long table lined with dead warriors; they raised their swords in salute as he entered.

In the first a cup was poured, and it was filled with blood.

In the second a cup was poured, and it was filled with flies.

In the third a cup was poured, and it was filled with ash.

And in each he drank deep, and they placed upon his head a crown of iron. And he raised his sword and the castles fell, and the beasts of the earth were shattered, and the stars fell from the sky, and all became as dust, until he too was as dust.

He awoke in his small cell beneath the streets of Unterstrom, and his hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Jonn rose and stretched, joints and ligaments screaming in protest after long stillness. Feeling his way ahead in the dark, he found the staircase upward and ascended. Twenty-two steps, then the door, which he pushed outward.

Even the dim candlelight of the dingy storeroom was enough to set him squinting for some moments, but in time he could make out the rows of barrels, crates and sacks that lined the aisle that led to his secret cell. He pushed the door closed and it seemed to disappear into the wall again, completely innocuous to all unaware of its existence. Only a few living hands knew where to press to open it again.

Gathering his sable cloak about him, Jonn made his way toward the front of the storeroom, the candlelight growing brighter with each step. As he stepped out from the aisle a group of four men gathered around a cluttered table came into view. The one facing him looked up and his jaw dropped before his face broke into a great smile. "Warleader!" he exclaimed, and rose from his seat to show his scarred palms, the Khalkar salute.

"Ho, Brother Martin," Jonn replied, raising his own hands to return the gesture. The other men rose as well, saluting Jonn; their faces were as much a mix of shock and elation as Martin's.

"We did not know when you would rise from your slumber, Lord," said Martin. "You must be famished! Go, Adolphus, fetch the Warleader food and drink!" The youngest of the group nodded and scurried out the front door.

Jonn did not feel particularly hungry or thirsty, but he did not protest. Adjusting his scabbard, he sat in the vacated chair and greeted the other two men. They were all sworn men of the Khalkar Ravens, tasked with guarding the secret cell of their Warleader while he walked the planes.

The boy returned with a feast and a small black dog, and from some unseen corner a less small brown dog bounded forth, and they were entertaining for a while. When the feast was over the smoke came out, and they all got high and spoke of old wars and new.

The hour grew late and Jonn grew restless. "I think I will go and see my city now."

The men protested, saying Unterstrom was not safe anymore, that it would be better to stay safe and let hands and ears get to work in the city. But Jonn would hear none of it. Gathering his cloak about him, he stepped out into one of the dockyards of Unterstrom's grand canal...

12th January

Day -- Ciarin Tut

Benedict Dupont

Benedict watched from the railings as the last of his men boarded the ship to Giask, soon to leave Shinnen behind.

It hadn't been a long campaign, or a very arduous one, though Benedict had no prior experience to compare it to, so it was still significant in his mind. At least I can return to my estate and get some rest, he thought.

Captain Caedwen strode to his side. "Sir, what are your plans for the Men once we arrive in Giask?"

Benedict had considered this for quite some time. The Dupont Rangers were certainly an admirable fighting force, but they were of no use to a man who wished to turn to administration and bookkeeping.

"I will have them disbanded when we arrive at the docks. They will receive their pay, and will be commended for their attitude. And you, captain? Do you intend to stay with them? I will have need for a captain for my personal bodyguard."

The captain regarded his words, mulling them over, clearly deep in thought. "A tempting offer, sir, but I've known these men half my life, can't just leave them without their leader".

A fair response, Benedict thought, I suppose I will have to hope for another exemplar subordinate when I head to the recruiting grounds.

"Very good captain, it will be a shame to have a man of your talents leaving my service, but I won't hold it against you. Dismissed". And with that the captain gave a quick nod and headed below the decks to attend to his men.

By now the last of the equipment had been loaded and the ships were slowly leaving the shore. Benedict watched as Shinnen grew smaller in the distance. I'm sure I'll return in due time, he wistfully mused, as he left the railings and headed into his cabin.

"Now where is my wine..."