Difference between revisions of "Hynes Family/Alois/Crusade/RP4"

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They had driven the Islanders from the walls, and nine of Alois' Legionnaires lay dead about him. The front rank of the box formation had marched gallantly into the fortified wall of spears, and Alois had personally lead his men over the palisade with Pate right behind him, carrying three spears and handing Alois a fresh one for every one he broke.
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Alois sat high atop Traveller, watching as the Army spread out along the rode ahead of him like a giant snake, spearpoints and polished armor and helms glistening in the sunlight. Beautiful, brightly colored banners emblazoned with the Arms of Itorunt and the individual sigil of the house of the Knight-Commander's fluttered in the breeze at the head of each company, separating each unit.
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He had been down to sword and dagger by the time the Islander forces finally broke and ran, and had suffered several minor wounds himself. Once over the wall, the pitiful armor of the Islanders did little good against the superior 'runt weapons.
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And now the nine men lay in a row before the walls, the crest of the Hynes Family sewn onto the surcoats worn over their chainmail marking them as Legionnaires.
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He felt the tightness in his chest, the breathlessness that came with the excitement of campaign. Beside him rode the boy, dressed in fresh, shining maile and a steel greathelm with the visor raised. He still looked pale, sickly, and in shock. Their undead encounter in Ejarr Puttl had jarred him slightly. Alois knew he had wanted to run, to bolt away from the action, but he hadn't.
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"What now?" Pate asked as he looked down at the corpses. "Do we take them home?"
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Alois shook his head. "No. No, it is too far. We will bury them here." The boy had taken the deaths better than he had expected. Maybe he was just not showing his fear, or maybe he was simply unaffected by the gorey wounds and blood after seeing a whole man torn apart by undead.
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"Pate," he called, reaching across and handing the squire a half-chewed crab apple, "Take it. Settle your nerves a bit."
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Pate pointed towards a corpse. "He was nice to me," he whispered, "A good man."
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"They were all good men."
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Nervously, with a shaking hand, the Squire took the crabapple and bit down on it where Alois had stopped.
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The boy only nodded. "Aye."
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Alois pulled the wineskin from around his body, uncorked it and took a long pull of the sweet spiced wine had he brought from Xavax and savored the feel of the salty breeze against his face, the rays of the morning sun warming his body, and letting both sensations soothe him. He could feel himself coming down, the bloodlust leaving him, draining the strength from his body. He handed Pate the skin, and let the boy take a swig of his own as he sleeved crusted blood from his face and replaced his greathelm.
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"He died last night," Alois said suddenly, "That other volunteer who got hit in Ejarr. Went peaceful like, asleep. Infection, healer's say."
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"Come, or we will miss breakfast."
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Alois had stopped to pay his respects before giving the order to make camp. The body lay covered in the middle of the healer's tent, but the sickly sweet, sour familiar smell of infection hung thick in the air as he approached.
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"I don't think I'm cut out to be a Knight," Pate said suddenly.
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"We're not born with the stomach for death, Boy," Alois said quietly, "It's something that you acquire. Something you will acquire by the time we get where we're going."

Latest revision as of 16:40, 9 June 2007

Alois sat high atop Traveller, watching as the Army spread out along the rode ahead of him like a giant snake, spearpoints and polished armor and helms glistening in the sunlight. Beautiful, brightly colored banners emblazoned with the Arms of Itorunt and the individual sigil of the house of the Knight-Commander's fluttered in the breeze at the head of each company, separating each unit.

He felt the tightness in his chest, the breathlessness that came with the excitement of campaign. Beside him rode the boy, dressed in fresh, shining maile and a steel greathelm with the visor raised. He still looked pale, sickly, and in shock. Their undead encounter in Ejarr Puttl had jarred him slightly. Alois knew he had wanted to run, to bolt away from the action, but he hadn't.

"Pate," he called, reaching across and handing the squire a half-chewed crab apple, "Take it. Settle your nerves a bit."

Nervously, with a shaking hand, the Squire took the crabapple and bit down on it where Alois had stopped.

"He died last night," Alois said suddenly, "That other volunteer who got hit in Ejarr. Went peaceful like, asleep. Infection, healer's say."

Alois had stopped to pay his respects before giving the order to make camp. The body lay covered in the middle of the healer's tent, but the sickly sweet, sour familiar smell of infection hung thick in the air as he approached.

"I don't think I'm cut out to be a Knight," Pate said suddenly.

"We're not born with the stomach for death, Boy," Alois said quietly, "It's something that you acquire. Something you will acquire by the time we get where we're going."

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