Chamberlain Roleplays: One night in Reeds.

July 6th 1016

-- Zisswii --

Yao Ling Pryde

Yao Ling looked down from the mountain tops of Zisswii to see Jactosh marching with his Daimons. He was coming.

Well. She was here first. He would regret marching on her city this day.

She carefully unrolled the scroll of Accident and began to speak words in a language that had not been heard in many years.

Her voice gained strength as she spoke, the sound reaching farther as each word left her lips.

Her companions covered their ears and looked away as the ritual magic surrounded her with a strange light.

And then she saw the moment when Jactosh heard her voice from the mountain top. He looked up and their eyes met.

The light reached out towards the Daimon and connected them with a ray of magical might as the scroll evaporated in her hands.

She saw the Daimon fall before his screams reached her ears.

Lesser Daimons scurried around, calling for healers to treat him.

And calling on others to hunt her down.

Yao Ling smiled. Her family had held Zisswii for years before she moved to Reeds. She knew the land like the back of her hand.

They would not catch her this day.

She saw them moving below her and considered her next move.

She fingered the other scroll and wondered if she should use it now...or later...

---

You carefully work the ritual inscribed on your scroll of Accident. The magic from the scroll is released with a strange light. Moments later, you hear screams from the direction of Jactosh, though it could be your imagination. No, it seems that his people are yelling for healers.

--- Reeds ---

Ameria Coldwater

"Fight well, friends" whispered Ameria under her breath as she watched the enemy host approach...

July 7th 1016 - Following the first battle for Reeds

Ameria Coldwater

Ameria was still shaking from the battle in Reeds. Thousands had perished, and the red was still staining her vision. Every single member of her unit was either dead or wounded, to the last man. And they didn't land a single blow on the enemy. Arrows the size of small trees rained from the sky, impaling her men all around her. A stray arrow caught her in the side, raking her body from head to knee. The armor had peeled away where it had struck her, leaving a path of ruined mail and blood in its wake.

She was using the arrow as a cane now, it was so large. Her knee was mangled a bit, but nothing that she wouldn't recover from. Ameria limped down the road, careful to avoid the light - she did not want to be seen. As she passed a board with notices on it, she noticed her name on one of the papers. Ameria Coldwater, elected Demokritia on this day. A half smile touched her lips, thankful to the nobles of Nothoi for honoring her. But the smile faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold scowl that scattered the peasants before her.

One drink, she told herself. One drink to dull the pain in her leg, and then she would return to her men to tend to the wounded. There were more battle preparations to make, despite their recent losses. She tossed the drink back in one swallow, left gold and a word with the bartender to buy Sir Felix's first round when and if he came in. She left through the same door, and limped back to camp to see what she could do about getting a few wounded men back on their feet.

Felix Calanar

Felix arrived too late, and with a half smile downed his own drink. He would have to send something to Ameria later. It was a shame the daimons still walked the streets. It would have been nice to have been social for once in his life. Carried with him was a package, though Gods only knew who would deliver it in these conditions. The servants said it was a man in old scout leathers. He bore the colors of old Melhed, and was away almost as quickly as he had arrived. He said that the package was compliments of a man whose time was past.

A second note delivered told him to keep a spot open, and that brought a quirk of a smile to his lips. It was then that he decided to go to a table and call up another couple of rounds as he opened the package. It was heavier than it looked, and it looked like a weapon. The cloth revealed it as such, but nothing like he had ever seen. A long, black blade sat before him. Just looking at it, he wanted to avert his gaze, and it felt like others were starting to back away. He had just seen a weapon like this, or at least similar to this. A note lay on the blade.

To the next generation of Daimon killers,

To stand proudly with a Daimon sword is not something many can do. However, it served me well in the days of Overlord. Kill them. Destroy them. Drive them from the land. It's no artifact, but it cuts a bit better than most weapons. Keep strong. You do your heritage proud.

~ Soren Calanar

Unsure of what to do, Felix quickly wrapped the weapon back up. Would something like this brand him a traitor? He decided to set it aside, and deal with it later. A weapon from Overlord's era, he became lost in thought as he started to drink away the morning.