Lightstar Family/Xarnelf/Roleplay End

Fallen Hero

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After the battle in Nahad... (Roleplay from Arella Morningstar)

From behind the rubble and ashen husks of a couple hundred soldiers, a cry is heard piercing the early morning sky.

"Do you yet mock me?! Is this the grand design that you have sent me back to watch unfold? How am I to lead a people unwilling to follow? How am I to stand in the balance when there is none to be had and no footing on which to stand? Where will we find a man more dedicated and loyal to the realm than the one that you saw fit to kill today?

Those who hid and did not stand to fight- they should be the ones in his place! But I swear that the paladin's death will not be in vain. I swear that I will complete my task and bring balance to the island. And I swear it will start with purging my people of all those unfit to bear her emblem or share our name!"

Anyone daring to find the source of the voice would discover a young woman, not yet even 18, weeping over the body of the old hero, Xarnelf. Her eyes fierce with determination, her jaw set, and the tears flowing without inhibitions or concern with who might see. Her words were directed to the heavens- to the Aenil from whom she came. But her bitter frustration was directed elsewhere. She had known this pain. She had died once from a pain such as this. Not this time...

---

During the battle in Nahad... (Roleplay from Sifeer Lejeunes Silver)

Sifeer stood ahead of his men, all carrying or pushing the siege equipment, shields raised in their free hands as the arrows swarmed down around them. The fury with which some of the Aenillian archers fired with was certainly impressive; certainly the one that made the rather sturdy Sifeer stagger back a step - powerful enough to pierce his shield, thankfully for him just above his arm. He'd have to deal with the slight unbalancing until at least the engines all reached the walls -- and it came soon enough.

The Viscount fought on foot, wearing light mail supplemented with light plating at the backside of his joints, all covered with a heraldic tabard. He is a fairly stocky man, so he wanted to keep as much mobility as he could retain; it kept him faster than his more heavily armored men. With a loud clatter, the equipment made contact with the wall, shortly after the ladders. Viscount Sifeer Lejeunes Silver dashed towards the entrance of the tower and with great haste climbed to the top, ahead of his men.

Awaiting him, as he crossed the rickety boards onto the wall was a rather intimidating sight; none other than Marshal and Paladin Xarnelf Lightstar and his fiercely trained bodyguard. Sifeer abruptly drew his sword and charged forth, the Serpaentis Furor directly behind him. Xarnelf was no coward, he would come out and meet the Viscount mid-charge.

The Serpaentis Furor outnumbered the equally skilled and intent Paladin's Aegis 28 men to 20, but the Paladins fought with an almost indescribable passion and furor that matched their counterparts.

The Paladin and Viscount met each other mid-charge; Sifeer drew his blade in time to try to get an opening shot on the Paladin, but Xarnelf easily deflected the rather powerful blow. Neither man had a clear advantage early on, but it did appear that Xarnelf was the more skilled of the two. Neither were afraid.

Sparks flew as powerful blows were exchanged and quickly deflected; several of Xarnelf's frightening attacks sent Sifeer to a knee beneath his shield to muster force to push them back. It didn't matter whether the Aenillian Paladin used speed or power in his blows; they were determined and they kept Sifeer on the defensive for the majority of the fight.

Finally, Sifeer would cleanly dodge a blow, and Xarnelf's momentum would send him staggering past. With a ferocious grunt, the Viscount spun and caught the hero with a staggering blow to his ribs; powerful enough to just pierce any armor he might have worn. It wasn't much, but it did slow Xarnelf enough so that Sifeer had a fighting chance. Xarnelf turned to face him, and Sifeer once more thrust forth, making solid contact and impaling, at least slightly, the better fighter.

Their eyes met, briefly, and Xarnelf almost seemed to laugh. A powerful kick knocked Sifeer backwards, blade scattered away from him. He wasn't unscathed, either - he was bleeding from many small cuts and sore from many bruises... He just left Xarnelf in a much worse shape. Even so, the Aenillian hero turned to his new target. He was no coward... He just saw a more rewarding target in the Duchess Talex. As the bloodied and wounded Xarnelf approached her, he just about cut down four of the Serpaentis Furor, thankfully only wounding them... Good men can be hard to find.

Sifeer cursed himself under his breath; he didn't know what to chalk that fight up as... A win, loss, draw... But there was more work to be done. He gathered his sword and went back into the fray.

---

Xarnelf's new target was Amelyne, who was directing her men against Arya's unit^(1); Sifeer must have mistaken her for Edara from the distance and the confusion of the melee. Before the Paladin could arrive in time to help, however, the former Viscount of Obtal intercepted him. The Pumas V and the Aegis traded blows for a moment^(2).

The Paladin gritted his teeth at the delay, watching helplessly as the Ichthys swarmed the Duchess of Nahad's position alongside the Blades and the Remton Swordsmen^(3). Suddenly, he heard a distinct cry of pain^(4) and whirled to confirm his suspicion, shoving aside an enemy soldier with his kite shield in the process. There stood his dear cousin Adaria fighting left-handed, with blood streaming down her right arm.

With a feral growl, the old hero surged over to her position. He recognized the Serpaentis Furor and their leader applying pressure to the Emblem from the side, but the real danger lay with Blitz, who had formed into a tight wedge. As Xarnelf closed, he noted that the Emblem's line was already cut in twain. Without pause, the warrior angled towards Adaria, heedless of the lack of support from his four remaining men.

"Hold on, Ada!!" He raised his shield to block a blade swinging in from his left. "I'm comi--ughh..." Xarnelf groaned as an axe swiped into his midsection from behind and to the right. His chainmail deflected the majority of the blow, but the strike left him momentarily stunned. The earlier wounds suffered in the spar with the Viscount of Larmebsi bled more profusely now, and his strength was giving way.

Someone striking his shield again caused him to stumble, and he roared in defiance, wrenching his sword arm around in a wide arc. The move caused those surrounding him to back off a step, but one fellow was too slow, thinking that he could score a hit before evading. As that soldier fell^(5), and Xarnelf's blade reached the end of its path, another man to the hero's side knocked his kite shield wide.

Though the Paladin tried to parry the incoming stab by retracting his extended sword arm from far to the right, he was no longer as swift in his advanced years as he used to be, once upon a time. Xarnelf watched as the steel point slowly and tantalizingly approached. Finally, it pierced his chest at the same spot that Sifeer had previously hit; the weakened and broken links of chainmail in this area barely hindered this second strike. A second later, his returning blade slammed into the one impaling him and knocked it out of his opponent's grasp, but the damage was already done.

With a soft groan, Xarnelf Lightstar, former Knight of Idapur, Haruspex Maximus of Taith Aenil, Royal Treasurer of Aenilia, Duke of Idapur, Marshal of the Prima Legio, Captain General of Aenilia, and Paladin-King, fell backwards to the hard ground. As his vision blurred, the hero thought he saw an evanescent phoenix circling in the sky above, as if beckoning to him. He whispered his final words with deep regret.

"Milady Arella, I have failed you..."

Meanwhile, Khaludh's Infantry cut down the rest of the Aegis^(6).

---

^(1) Hunter's Blades (11) score 259 hits on Knights of the Silver Flame (31).
^(2) Fiendish Pumas V (10) score 305 hits on ~V~ Paladin's Aegis (39). ~V~ Paladin's Aegis (39) score 176 hits on Fiendish Pumas V (10).
^(3) Remton Swordsmen (23) score 301 hits on Knights of the Silver Flame (31). Ichthys (12) score 418 hits on Knights of the Silver Flame (31). Arya Calanar, Duchess of Nahad has been wounded by Ichthys (12).
^(4) Adaria Lightstar... has been wounded by Blitz (6).
^(5) ~V~ Paladin's Aegis (39) score 59 hits on Blitz (6). Blitz (6) take 59 hits in close combat, which cause 1 casualties.
^(6) Infantry (13) score 82 hits on ~V~ Paladin's Aegis (39).

---

That night...

Her eyes were red, and the area around them puffy from expending so many tears. Arya had been understanding and was simply there to hold her through the night, without saying anything.

Adaria had thought he was blessed by the Aenil and would never fall in battle, veteran of countless campaigns and numerous stacked-odds battles that he was. Why, she still remembered hearing about that one time in Leod against Soliferum, where it was twenty-five attacking units to their four defending units. Both sides took nearly equivalent casualties due to tactically-sound line settings, but Xarnelf, Kenshue, Rebbec, and Malificar actually managed to capture Conan before retreating from the field! Surprisingly, none of them were wounded.

Thus, it had been a shocking blow to see him struck down, and she kept hoping it was just a bad nightmare, a terrible vision warning them of a possible future. Alas, it was all too real. After the defenders had been routed, she had leaned weakly against Arella over his still form, and Arya had joined them shortly before the healers came to tend to the two wounded duchesses.

Now she traced the blood-bond scar lining her love's palm as they cuddled and rested from the day's trying ordeal. Finally, she spoke her first words since screaming 'Nooo!!' in the morning, with a soft, almost-cracking voice.

"We'll need to give him a traditional hero's funeral... on a nice, tall pyre... That's what he would've wanted... I think... Yes, I think he would've liked us to hold a small event to honor his memory too... I'll set up a simple joust, and people who want to come pay their respects can do that..."

Adaria squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to sob again but finding no more tears left. Her throat was parched too, from dehydration; the girl's voice finally, fully cracked.

"Is he... really gone?"

---

At the tourney grounds in Idapur a week later...

Shortly before the main event started, Adaria addressed the gathered participants.

"Welcome everyone to the Paladin's Farewell Joust, whether you have come to pay your respects or to simply enjoy the festivities. The Paladin of Aenilia upheld his duty to his homeland to his last breath, and has found peace at long last. Let us drink to his memory, and to all those other heroes who have fallen in defense of their values. Let us remember their sacrifices, and look towards a better tomorrow."

With a sad smile, the duchess raised a goblet of wine, then tipped it over to pour the red liquid onto the ground, toasting her late cousin. An attendant was at hand with another goblet to exchange for the now empty one, as other servants handed out similar drinks to the nobles in attendance. Adaria lifted this second one, waited until everyone seemed to have been served, and then downed it.

A moment later, trumpets sounded the start of the tourney.

---

After the event had concluded, Adaria walked with Arya to the pyre set up for Xarnelf. There was a small crowd of nobles gathering there to witness the funeral, but many of the tourney goers who did not know him were already packing up their tents instead. She smiled softly and nodded to an amicable Min as they passed, and then did the same to an unreadable Celina, who was waiting next to her son Gul'Dan. Alpha was there too, but Adaria did not fully recognize the duke because they had met in person only a few times; however, she politely nodded when their eyes met.

The duchess had considered making a short speech, but it was still too recent and painful for her. Adaria could not think of any words that would pay sufficient homage to such an inspiring hero, and figured that those who had showed up already had their own personal memories of the old warrior.

Thus, no words were spoken as she solemnly accepted a torch from a tourney official, slowly turned to meet the gazes of everyone around her again, and then gently laid it against the pyre.

"Farewell, Xarnie..." Adaria sighed, leaning against Arya as the flames began to consume the wood.

---

(Roleplay from Arya Calanar)

Arya put her arm around the duchess and pressed a small note into her hands. "From my uncle," she whispered.

She didn't have any other words to say. She respected Xarnelf, feared him a little, but in the end, he was family to her. She didn't want to admit it, but she was going to miss the crazy paladin. If she tried to add anything else to the scene, she would have cried as well, and right now, she needed to be strong for Adaria.

The note read,
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Farewell to the Paladin, Xarnelf the White, Warrior of the ~V~, and Champion of Greater Aenilia.

Duchess Adaria, I cannot tell you how deeply I feel for your loss. He was a great man. If you dedicate a monument to him, of which I will gladly help pay for if you request it, don't forget his title 'the White'. He was a rare man to be accepted into the White Order. I gave him access to the tools of the Order, but alas, it has been reduced to myself once more. He joins the ranks of Senoske and Gul'Dan in that respect. As a hero of ~V~, he joins the ranks of Valius himself.

If I can do anything for you in this time of loss, please let me know.

Ziode Calanar
---

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(Roleplay from Arella Morningstar)

Damn the lack of reliable... well, reliable anything around here, lately.

The young Lady Captain General cursed her poor luck again at having been drawn to Ipsosez by duty and missing the tournament. It had nothing to do with jousting. The Aenil know just how poor her skill must be in this incarnation. She had yet to even command a team of cavalry yet, though she was itching to do so once more.

After having sat in the lost stronghold for nearly three days, she finally gave the orders to begin a takeover shorthanded. The King had arrived, and Casey had been traveling with her the entire time. Arella looked into the eyes of Alarondur and Cyrus as well, grateful for their aid and support. These men all deserved commendation.

No, it was failing her old friend once again that gave Arella the most grief this night. Leaving he and the others on her bold, enlightening, yet definitively final ascension all those years ago left a sour taste in her mouth. She knew why she had to leave. She knew what would have happened had she stayed. But still it all felt like gravel down the throat. That gravel was refusing to go down easy right now. And now, on the night of his pyre ceremony, here she was, a slave to duty once more instead of standing beside that fire. Or perhaps better yet, astride it.

Taking her leave of her men and the other nobles, she moved softly into the woods, where she then retched. Doubled over on the ground, she wept silent, bitter tears of grief and loneliness.

Farewell, my friend. Even in the end, I have managed to fail you. Forgive me.

---

A week after the tourney... (Roleplay from Salerim Mourmain)

A calm warm drizzle was starting over the grassy hill, as two figures climbed slowly.

"Is this the place?"

"Yes, m'lord. It was only a week or two ago, after the tourney."

"Thanks. You can go now." Salerim pressed a small silver coin into the boy's hand, who bit it and ran back down the hill happily.

The rain was turning the ashes into a soft black paste, mixing it with the grass and mud of the hill. He walked slowly through it all to a charred stump on the edge, the rain and ash staining his sandals and feet. Leaning on his walking stick he sat down on the dark stump.

The only sounds were his breathing and the patter of rain on the black ground. He sat there for a long while, letting time, rain and the smell of fresh ground soak in.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here for your ceremony my friend," he told the ashes and the rain. "But you never cared much for formality, I know." He pulled forward the satchel swung around his back, and took out a worn leather wine flask. He lifted it up in the air. "For a life well lived, my friend," he said, and poured a mouthful on the ground, then took a deep swallow of it himself. A flash lit up the cloudy horizon for an instant. "And for a death well fought," he added, then poured and drank again. Thunder snapped and rumbled into the mists of the hill.

"Aye, and who can say you didn't live it right?" Salerim asked, and laughed. "Is there any challenge you didn't meet? A true hero's life, if ever I've seen one. And a hero's death as well... Defending the realm till the end, as a warrior should. I'm not sorry for you, my friend. I'm proud for you. Few men will achieve as much as you have, and they'll all look up to you doing it..." The rain soaked into his face as he turned the flask upside-down. "I think that deserved another swig."

"I pray your spirit lives on, Xarnelf. Aenil knows our world needs more of it." Flashes were coming from all around of the horizon now, and a gusty wind swirled his heavy robes. Thunder rumbled and rolled as he stood up. He reached down to the ground with one hand and picked up a handful of wet dark ash, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers, before letting the heavy rain wash it away.

"Farewell, my old friend."

---

(Roleplay from Tinwe Huntmaster)

She wore only a plain tunic and a thin black shawl in a halfhearted nod to decorum. The plain threat of battle was past, for now, and anyway her recent illness had left her weak. She carried her dagger, just in case, but her bow was left unstrung in Idapur. She walked alone, expressionless, though her face showed the stains of tears.

Tinwe slowly climbed the hill towards the charred remains of the pyre. Already there was a bit of a path begining to wear into the grass from other feet making the same pilgrammage. Reaching the top, she scuffed the dirt and ashes with a sandaled foot and squatted on the broken ground before a small but growing shrine.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, my friend. The one time you could have used another sword, and I was lying sick and useless in Ipsosez."

She pulled the cork from flask of stiff Zonasan brandy, and raised it skyward.

"For you, Xarnelf, and for what you taught me. For the siege of Idapur, for Nahad, for the rearguard at Larmebsi, for Talex, and Nahad again. For a life well lived."

She poured a portion out, and took a deep pull herself.

"For friends, and for the memories of heroes."

She meditated there a while. Preparing to leave, she scraped a handful of soil mixed with ash into a phial. As she stood, the sun broke through the gathered clouds, and a bright beam shone through the misty sky to light the hilltop shrine. She smiled then, and looked skyward to mouth the words:

"For Aenilia!"