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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Apr 18, 2018 9:39:32 GMT -8
The younger Vyatautas grunted from pain, his face scrunched from the exertion of simply trying not to scream out. His leg was well and truly crushed underneath the gored stallion, and it didn't help that it was still very much alive, kicking and screaming in pain on its side. But, he tried to pull himself out, only to be confounded by the mud. Then another pair of hands grabbed onto him, helping drag him out from underneath the stallion.
The Witch Hunter had momentarily dropped his sword, and had run over to pull the younger out while Alexander lifted the stallion. Nearly slipping several times, and grunting from the effort of fighting against the mud and the weight of the horse, he barely managed to get him out from underneath the horse. He couldn't get him much further though, or lift him off the ground unassisted, as the mud proved too thick, but he was at least free from the horse.
The Watcher continued charging forward for several more feet after the second lance entered its hide, driving deep towards its heart. It already started feeling sluggish from the lances in his vital organs supplied by the Vyatautas, unable to think properly, unable to move his body under his own commands. The third lance from Oskar proved to be the last it could take. With one final bellow, it slowed to a walk, the momentum carrying it forward, finally falling to its knees. It's great head dropped with a loud thud, and its heaving sides slowly stopped moving. The Deity of the Aurochs was no more.
But, another sound came from the area of the creature. Still impaled on the horns of the Watcher, the Elder let out little more than a moan, somehow still alive. He tried to lift his hands, to try and push the ivory out from his body, but the dark red lifeblood seeping out onto the horn made it impossible to grasp, and his hands were to weak to try little more than feeble attempts. Some of the retainers still mounted rode over, and attempted to free the Elder from the beast, gingerly trying to slide him off without too much pain.
The other retainers walked around the battlefield, gathering up arrows and finishing off the wounded horses, so their pitiful screams would stop filling the clearing. One retainer knelt down next to the one who had hit the tree, and put his fingers to the man's throat, checking for a pulse. He shook his head when he found none. No one made an effort to search for the other retainer who fell into the pond, as by now he had sunk to the bottom, and found his own fate.
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Oskar Boleslav
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 21
Physical Description: Oskar is of average height, has dark hair kept short, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache. Years of training and carrying a lance and large shield shows as he is muscular and physically fit. His shoulders are particularly broad from years of wearing chain mail.
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Clothes and Equipment: Light chain mail, conical metal helmet over a mail coif, a small composite bow and a small quiver with twenty arrows, a 4-meter long light lance, a Voruatan Szabla(Saber), and a heavy Vorutan Pavise shield with his lord's coat of arms.
As he cavalry retainer, Oskar has small, quick and agile, brown gelding.
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Registered: Mar 29, 2018 12:38:56 GMT -8
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Post by Oskar Boleslav on Apr 20, 2018 11:17:23 GMT -8
No sooner was the younger Vyatautas was freed from the dying horse did Aleksander’s lance snap under the weight. The sudden loss of resistance caused Aleksander to trip forward and fall atop the horse, his boots sliding out from underneath him in the mud. He quickly pushed off, his hands now covered in the horse’s blood, and fell on his behind, where he quickly scrambled back to get out of the vicinity of the dying horse and small mud pit. Breathing heavily, he lied on his back and stared up at the sky, trying to regain his breath and mind. The image of the retainer being through against the tree and the Elder being impaled flashed before his mind repeatedly as he waited out the adrenaline…
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Oskar rode in a tight circle after lancing the large creature before facing it again, his own breath ragged and his chest steadily moving up and down. He stared the Watcher down, watching the beast in its final death throes with a disturbing eagerness.
When the Watcher finally did lie down, succumbing to its many wounds, Oskar settled back down into his saddle and clutched his right arm, which was sore, and a sudden tiredness swept over him as the adrenaline left his body and his heart rate lowered back down to reasonable levels.
Seeing the Elder still clinging onto life and trying to pull himself off the great horns of the Watcher sent a shiver down his spine and his lunch threatened to come up, so he turned his head away and closed his eyes. Which turned into a mistake; much like Aleksander, the day’s carnage replayed over and over behind his closed eyelids and, not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he reopened them, just in time to see a retainer check the corpse by the tree for a pulse. Sighing, Oskar decided to be useful and fetch the horses for the corpses. They should bring them home to their family for a proper ceremony.
Swiveling his head back and forth, Oskar looked for the horses and found one calmly nibbling grass on the far side of the clearing, by the edge of the woods. He spurred his horse to a trot and headed in that direction, sidling up slowly next to the horse who seemed wholly unaware or unconcerned with his master’s death. Oskar frowned and leaned over in his saddle to grab up the abandoned horse’s reins and led it back to the lone tree towering over the fallen retainer. An odd thought occurred to him as he thought what a beautiful and tragic painting the scene by the tree would have made had he witnessed it on a wall somewhere rather than having experienced it firsthand.
Shaking his head of such insensitive nonsense, Oskar dismounted to help heft the dead retainer up on to his horse. “His horse”. If Oskar was to be realistic, then he’d admit not knowing whether this horse belonged to this dead corpse or another, such as the one sunk to the bottom of that pond...not like the dead cares which mount they ride back home…
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Apr 25, 2018 11:55:15 GMT -8
Frankly, the man who Oskar brought the horse to didn't care if it was the wounded man's horse or not. He had a similar mindset of just getting out of the damned woods and back to the safety of civilization. It was a thought shared by everyone, as the huntsmen emerged from the trees and started helping the rest of the retainers clean the field, and withdraw arrows from the side of the Watcher, occasionally cursing and throwing away arrows that had been bent or broken off in the side of the beast.
Finally, the Elder Vyatautas was pulled off the horn of the Watcher, leaving a bloody trail behind him as they laid him on the ground, to try and staunch the bleeding. Lukas came up, pulling out bandages from his satchel, and tightly bound the wound on both sides. "We need to get out of here, and back to the castle. He's not going to last long like this. Huntsmen! Cut me some long, thin trees, two for every wounded man!" he said to the group gathered around him, watching as he worked. The other retainers nodded their heads, finally glad to see someone was taking charge of the situation, since both the nobles were out of commission.
The Huntsmen scrambled, and soon returned with the requested logs. They knew what the Witch Hunter wanted, and soon created three travois by tying the front ends around the saddle horns of three healthy horses, and tying down blankets to serve as the resting places. Seeing that the work was done, the Witch Hunter ordered, "I'm going to need some help transferring the lords from their current places to the travois. On three. One. Two. Three!" and with a grunt and a heave, Lukas and several other retainers grabbed onto the Elder and carried him to the first travois, secured behind the Witch Hunter's own horse. "Gently, gently," grunted Lukas as they laid the Elder down.
The process was repeated for the Younger, though there were more grunts and hands needed to remove him from the mud. Lukas was tempted to open up the Younger's greave to see the extent of the damage to his leg, but he realized that was probably the only thing keeping it in place for now. When they moved to the now cold retainer, the Witch Hunter didn't bother to say to be careful, because the others already knew they needed to, and the retainer didn't need gentleness right now.
With the wounded loaded and the woods cleaned of most the arrows, the Witch Hunter then mounted, and ordered, "Let's head home before it gets dark. Same positions as before." And with that, the party started back down the trail again, and didn't stop until they reached the woodcutter's camp, and only then for a few moments, to tell the squires who were left behind to get some warm food going to ride ahead to the castle and get the surgeons ready. The Witch Hunter said to the Retainers and Huntsmen not dragging the wounded, "Rest here for a bit if you wish, and get some food in you. We'll continue to ride to the castle. Be back by tomorrow noon."
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Oskar Boleslav
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 21
Physical Description: Oskar is of average height, has dark hair kept short, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache. Years of training and carrying a lance and large shield shows as he is muscular and physically fit. His shoulders are particularly broad from years of wearing chain mail.
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Clothes and Equipment: Light chain mail, conical metal helmet over a mail coif, a small composite bow and a small quiver with twenty arrows, a 4-meter long light lance, a Voruatan Szabla(Saber), and a heavy Vorutan Pavise shield with his lord's coat of arms.
As he cavalry retainer, Oskar has small, quick and agile, brown gelding.
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Registered: Mar 29, 2018 12:38:56 GMT -8
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Post by Oskar Boleslav on Apr 26, 2018 11:29:36 GMT -8
Once the body was loaded on the horse and after the travois was built, Oskar helped lift the Elder Vyatautas as Aleksander aided with the Younger Vyatautas. When the dirty work was done, Oskar pulled off his helmet and strapped it to his horse’s saddle pommel before mounting himself. He then followed the Witch Hunter out of the clearing, through the woods, and back into the camp. He chose to follow Lukas and the others back to the castle, feeling responsible for the Elder’s death. Aleksander, on the other hand, chose to stay behind at the woodcutter’s camp with the other retainers; sitting on a log with his face in his hands, slightly shaking.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Apr 26, 2018 13:08:21 GMT -8
The coughing and wheezing echoed through the stone halls of the keep. Servants rushed back and forth from the chamber, not bothering to talk, preoccupied with their tasks of fetching fresh water and towels. This had been their lives for the past few days, struggling against the inevitable.
Viewing the spectacle from across the hall, a young man dressed in rich fabrics of crimson, and covered under a blanket of furs sat on a bench, reclining along the wall, one leg resting on the bench while the other was on the ground. Dark bags were underneath his bloodshot eyes, betraying the fact that he had been sitting in the same position for the better part of two days. He had eaten and drunk little, and slept even less, though that might have been a mixture of both the event he was witnessing, and the pain coursing through his leg.
The Younger Vyatautas had kept his vigil over his father from the hallway, unable to enter the room under doctors' orders. "We already have enough to worry about m'lord, we don't need a one legged man taking up space." It was a rather frank way to speak to a noble, but they knew the Younger couldn't afford to fire them at this time. Besides, they had already splinted his leg, which had several fractures from the fallen stallion, so he couldn't fire them yet.
Another figure was a part of the scene, Witch Hunter Lukas, his usual leather duster and wide brimmed hat in his quarters, but still wearing the same clothes from the hunt. He sat on the ground next to the younger, his back resting on the wall with his feet drawn up close to him. Soft snoring emanated from him, as he kept vigil with the Younger, though he was failing at his end. Slightly annoyed from his companion's lack of will, the younger poked him softly, "You can go to bed Lukas."
"I'll do it when you do it Erik," came the mumbled reply, followed by more snoring. It was interrupted once more when the door flew open, and out stepped an rather elderly and portly gentleman, his face bright red from exhaustion and exertions. He waited until he caught Erik Vyatauta's eyes, and solemnly announced, "Long live Baron Erik Vyatautas, second of his name," and knelt on the ground. Lukas, who was not nearly as asleep as he let on, shifted from his rear to his knees, and also knelt before him.
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Oskar Boleslav
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 21
Physical Description: Oskar is of average height, has dark hair kept short, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache. Years of training and carrying a lance and large shield shows as he is muscular and physically fit. His shoulders are particularly broad from years of wearing chain mail.
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Clothes and Equipment: Light chain mail, conical metal helmet over a mail coif, a small composite bow and a small quiver with twenty arrows, a 4-meter long light lance, a Voruatan Szabla(Saber), and a heavy Vorutan Pavise shield with his lord's coat of arms.
As he cavalry retainer, Oskar has small, quick and agile, brown gelding.
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Registered: Mar 29, 2018 12:38:56 GMT -8
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Post by Oskar Boleslav on Apr 27, 2018 12:07:47 GMT -8
Oskar was exhausted and he could feel the weight of his light chain mail attempting to drag him down to the ground. With each passing moment, it became harder and harder to resist; his muscles were aching and screaming out at him to at least take his armor off. But, what they really wanted, was for him to lay down. I am going to be sore tomorrow...and the next day, he mused to himself as he stood, straight-backed, next to the Younger Vyatautas' seat, on the opposite side as Lukas, who looked to be asleep. Oskar occasionally shot the Witch Hunter a disapproving glance, before straightening up himself and sucking in a deep breath.
He hadn't said a word since their arrival in the castle. Using this time to mull over everything that happened...it helped him stay awake.
After a while, Oskar was about to doze off standing on his two feet, but the doctor bursting through the door to announce the Younger Vyatautas as the new Baron quickly remedied that and his eyes flew open. He rapidly dropped to his knee with a loud thud, his chain rustling with the movements. "Long live Baron Erik Vyatautas," he mumbled quietly under his breath.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on May 2, 2018 10:52:27 GMT -8
Silence reigned for a few seconds, as Eric sat motionless in shock. Then collapsed altogether. Lukas sprung forward, checking Erik's pulse on his neck to see if Erik had just followed in the footsteps of his father. He let his breath out slowly, and turned back to the portly doctor, "Well, he's out. Probably from... just everything. Oskar, help me grab hold of him, we need to get him to his bed." Not waiting for Oskar quite yet, Lukas took the blanket off Erik, and laid it on the ground, to help act as impromptu sling for the limp noble.
With Oskar taking Erik's other side, they slowly lowered the noble onto the blanket, and then picked up either side, and carried Erik to his chambers, which was on the other side of the castle. Despite having help, Lukas was breathing heavily about half way through. An unsettling silence languished between the two, as they focused on crossing the castle. Finally, Lukas broke the silence, "So, why don't you trust me? Have I given you just cause to not?"
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Oskar Boleslav
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 21
Physical Description: Oskar is of average height, has dark hair kept short, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache. Years of training and carrying a lance and large shield shows as he is muscular and physically fit. His shoulders are particularly broad from years of wearing chain mail.
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Clothes and Equipment: Light chain mail, conical metal helmet over a mail coif, a small composite bow and a small quiver with twenty arrows, a 4-meter long light lance, a Voruatan Szabla(Saber), and a heavy Vorutan Pavise shield with his lord's coat of arms.
As he cavalry retainer, Oskar has small, quick and agile, brown gelding.
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Registered: Mar 29, 2018 12:38:56 GMT -8
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Post by Oskar Boleslav on May 6, 2018 15:19:58 GMT -8
Oskar gripped the edges of the blanket tightly, his fingers becoming sore as he and Lukas hefted their lord and carried him through the castle. Lukas' question caught Oskar off guard and he wasn't entirely sure where it came from. For a moment, he simply stared at Lukas saying nothing, thinking. Finally, he said quietly, "I don't know you", and that was it. He then returned to his task.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on May 16, 2018 8:58:55 GMT -8
Lukas shrugged at Oskar's answer, "Just because you don't know someone doesn't mean you shouldn't give them the benefit of doubt, especially since we serve the same lord. Here we are," he finished, as they reached the richly decorated door of Erik's room. Lukas opened it with a kick, before navigating the still limp body through the opening. The bedroom was rather large, with a large bed occupying the center of the room alongside the wall. Opposite it lay the fireplace, and the corner was a desk piled high with parchment and decrees.
The pair laid Erik on his bed, letting him rest on top his sheets. Stretching his worn out muscles, Lukas was about to walk off, when a weak voice escaped from the bed, "Lukas, come here."
Lukas came closer, and had to lean close to fully hear what the noble said. He nodded his head along with the conversation, before repeating back incredulously, "Burn it?" A harsh whisper reprimanded him, and Lukas again nodded that he would do what he was commanded. Finally, the voice faded off, and Lukas left the side of the bed. Turning to Oskar, he commanded, "Come with me, it will take two to do this job." With that, he began to walk to the far side of the castle, where they had just come from.
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Oskar Boleslav
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 21
Physical Description: Oskar is of average height, has dark hair kept short, dark brown eyes, and a small mustache. Years of training and carrying a lance and large shield shows as he is muscular and physically fit. His shoulders are particularly broad from years of wearing chain mail.
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Clothes and Equipment: Light chain mail, conical metal helmet over a mail coif, a small composite bow and a small quiver with twenty arrows, a 4-meter long light lance, a Voruatan Szabla(Saber), and a heavy Vorutan Pavise shield with his lord's coat of arms.
As he cavalry retainer, Oskar has small, quick and agile, brown gelding.
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Registered: Mar 29, 2018 12:38:56 GMT -8
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Post by Oskar Boleslav on Jun 5, 2018 14:19:38 GMT -8
Oskar shrugged while he continued to support the noble's body. "I am not going to give you the 'benefit of the doubt'. Trust is earned, not given, and it shouldn't matter to you anyhow how I feel about you," he retorted while helping to lower the noble down on the bed. Once that was done, Oskar took a step back and stood straight-backed by the door frame, his hands clasped in front of him. He stared straight ahead and didn't try to listen in on what the noble was telling Lukas, and nodded when the latter commanded him to follow.
Sighing quietly, Oskar followed Lukas out of the room and towards the other side of the castle.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Jun 7, 2018 11:28:25 GMT -8
"That's where you're wrong Sir Boleslav," remarked back Lukas, "I should care about how you feel about me. In the heat of battle, if I can't trust on you to stop a savage orc from crushing me with his club from behind, then I need to know that now." Before he could continue onwards, they reached their destination: the Elder Vyatautas' office where he conducted all the business of his holdings.
It was a rather small room, crowded with ledgers, dusty old tomes, and rolls of scrolls on shelves crowding around an oaken desk, all situated around a small fireplace in the wall. Lukas was told to find something, but he had no idea what he was exactly looking for. Turning to Oskar, he said, "We're looking for a scrap of paper, full of royal seals. It's imperative we find it. Problem is, I have no idea what it looks like. So, we'll be looking together."
Pulling books off shelves, opening them, then replacing them, he set to work trying to find the piece of parchment bound for the fire.
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Queen Audrey I von Audria
Established
Supreme Sorceress
Roleplay posts: 45
Age: 30
Physical Description: A beautiful lady with sun-kissed skin, entrancing blue eyes, and a fair complexion with long, flowing crimson hair.
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Clothes and Equipment: An assortment of expensive fashion and attire suitable for a lady of her stature.
Lady Audrey also carries various gems which increase her magical talent, or perhaps help to control it.
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Registered: Sept 25, 2015 14:39:52 GMT -8
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Post by Queen Audrey I von Audria on Jun 10, 2018 4:47:40 GMT -8
A convoy of mounted knights would be spotted escorting a carriage through the countryside of Voruta. The white caparisons hanging over the knights' warhorses were emblazoned with the black cross, echoing the same sigil which fluttered on banners above the riders. Behind them were camp followers, pilgrims, peasants, and other tag-alongs who could not protect themselves - the type of company an armed guard attracts. The dirty, weary, and worn parasites were a stark contrast from the mounted Knight-Brothers who wore shining armor, and whose white cloaks trailed behind them.
But the star of this troupe was the lady who rested within the carriage, yet unseen. It was only customary for a noble of her stature to ride within; she was a commodity to precious to be seen, so the Knight-Brothers thought - and perhaps rightfully so.
The Lady’s stagecoach was being pulled by four beautiful white mares. It rolled along the beaten path through the countryside and towards the Fortress Voruta.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Oct 7, 2018 19:53:29 GMT -8
The party continued along the road, riding for the rest of the morning and the better part of the afternoon. They had shifted from being a rather disorganized bunch to riding in two files, the mud from the road squelching up and hitting the bellies and legs of their mounts. They often had to move off the road to avoid a wagon stuck in the mud, offering no assistance to help move them along.
By late afternoon, they arrived at a relatively new looking settlement, the usual aged wooden walls of the outer palisade instead being freshly grounded thick cedar logs. The worn wooden hovels were not seen either. Instead, the houses were of a fashion unfamiliar to most Vorutans, being built of a white washed wattle and daub, with fresh bundles of thatch adorning all the roofs. The village was also built on a grid system, surrounding a stout stone building that served as both a town hall and fortress if the settlement were to be besieged.
The horsemen had to cross a well constructed wooden bridge over what was supposedly the dry moat, though that had long since become nothing but a quagmire of sitting water and stinking mud. The town was busy despite the weather, people weathering their homes for their first winter. Most of the settlers were recent migrants from Isra, either dissatisfied elements that didn't take too kindly to the Empress's policies or people just looking for fresh land to settle. There were certainly a rowdy element that sat outside the inn under the awning, sharpening weapons menacingly, letting the riders know who the local toughs were at the time.
There was a rather loud and riotous crowd gathered at the front of the town hall, shouting about something or another, it was hard to pick out individual phrases or demands as the party rode closer. There was a rather richly dressed, portly old man atop the steps facing the crowd, trying to get his voice heard over the ruckus. He appeared rather red faced and nervous... that was, until he saw the riders. He pointed at the leader of the pack, and shouted, "And there is our savior!" clearly in common.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Oct 11, 2018 13:15:49 GMT -8
Grey listened to Ladislav’s description of the enemy with keen interest; knowing one’s enemy was crucial, he believed. “A foul bunch,” was all he offered in reply.
As was his character, Grey remained mostly quiet during the journey. He was a decent rider and clearly had experience in the saddle. He’d often times look up to see about Iseult, his falcon, and watched the local wildlife. At any point one of his companions inquired towards him he would offer relatively short, simple, and to-the-point replies, laconic as he was.
Grey wondered where the Feral Orcs originated from, and whether the Vorutans were encroaching on their territory, of perhaps it was the other way around. Once they came upon the crowd surrounding the old man, Grey paused behind Ladislav and waited to see what would happen.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Oct 25, 2018 14:39:14 GMT -8
The crowd turned on cue to face the group of riders, which Ladislav welcomed with a rather savage grin as he rode forward. The crowd parted to allow him and his horse to pass, though they gave no cheers or jeers to indicate how they felt about this new force. Still mounted, Ladislav turned to face the mob when he reached the head, and shouted to them, "DISPERSE YOU LOT! DISPERSE! WORRY NOT, FOR THOUGH THE ISRAN LEGION DOES NOT CARE FOR YOUR WELL-BEING, YOUR VORUTAN NEIGHBORS DO! GO TO YOUR HOMES, AND PREPARE FOOD AND SHELTER FOR US FOR THE NIGHT!"
The crowd seemed to shrug with the rather simple assurance, and turned to return to their homes. At least someone had heard their cries of fear. With that, Ladislav turned to the rather plump man, and very quickly devolved into an argument with him which seemed to be related about finances and the fair rate for the price of riders.
The villagers began to return in pairs and trios, bearing food for the riders and fodder for their horses. A rather comely lass and her even prettier sister approached Grey, both giggling quietly as they offered him a bowl of thick porridge mixed with some form of beef, "What's the name of your hawk?" came the comely girl, her blue eyes sparkling.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Nov 3, 2018 6:02:25 GMT -8
Grey remained close to his compatriots and kept a watchful eye on his surroundings as Ladislav had words with the town-crier. Two young girls approached the traveling warrior and offered him porridge before inquiring about the name of his hawk.
Grey welcomed the girls with a warm smile and readily accepted the food. "Iseult," he answered them before taking a bite of the porridge. "A name that means something to me," he continued after swallowing, "and what are the names of the two beautiful girls before me?"
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Nov 7, 2018 18:50:07 GMT -8
"I'm Anastasia," giggled the girl on the left, "And she's Elze." If it looked like they were to continue onwards, a harsh shout from a cottage called to them. A rather drab and cross man armed with a crossbow waved the girls over. Rather downcast, they left rather quickly, leaving Grey with the bowl. The door slammed shut behind them, and the scrape of bar across it could be heard over the eating and laughing of the other riders.
Finally, Ladislav returned to the column, and barked out, "Finish your meals, we don't stop here for tonight. Those barbarous orcs have been seen not three miles from here, and there's a missing family here." He left the implication of what that meant to be interpreted to the riders, who began to eat even more vigorously.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 6, 2018 13:50:28 GMT -8
Grey offered both girls a smile before their apparent caretaker appeared across the way. He frowned as both young ladies were shepherded back into their home. Be safe, he thought to himself in regards to them. He would finish the food and, having nowhere else to put the bowl, shoved it and the ladle into a saddlebag.
As Ladislav explained the situation to the men he was sure to listen and urged his horse to the head of the column, ready to ride side-by-side with his employer.
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Dutch
New
Off to war with the Orcs
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 30
Physical Description: 6’ 0”, 185 lbs. Tall and broad shouldered. Dark brown hair, with a red-brown beard, braided with trinkets.
Clothes and Equipment: Dark green cloak, appearing black in the shadows.
Long bow and quiver hidden beneath the folds of the cloak.
Dark leather clothing beset with leather straps and pouches.
Leather boots, soft soled, well-worn and stained by the elements.
Registered: Dec 9, 2018 18:19:48 GMT -8
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Post by Dutch on Dec 9, 2018 20:27:28 GMT -8
Leaning casually under the eaves of a nearby building, a tall man, cloaked in the shadows smoked an old wooden pipe while observing the column of horsemen finish their meals.
Dutch had not been in the region long, having traveled a great distance with only what he carried within his pouches, pockets, and the small canvas bag upon his back. He muttered under his breath in a broken common tongue, “Too many of these horsemen are barely lads old enough to be taken from their mother’s breast.”
His grey eyes observed the varying levels of discipline and experience throughout the ranks. In his travels, he had fought with and against companies such as this. The sword on his back, silver handle peeking from the wrapped leather covering, had seen many battles and had spilt much blood. The sword had paid for itself many times over throughout the past 10 winters, from when he had first purchased it with stolen coins. It had been the start he needed in order to leave behind his humble beginnings in a far off land as the son of a farmer.
His pipe emptied, Dutch sat upon his heels, back against the new white washed wall. He shifted slightly onto his left foot as he adjusted the dagger on his right hip to avoid any unpleasant pinching. This settlement was new, and had a noticeable lack of the ill-reputed citizens he had grown used to throughout his travels.
Uneasy with the arrival of such an armed company, Dutch was determined to observe and nothing more.
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Post by Grand Duchy of Voruta on Dec 11, 2018 18:25:45 GMT -8
The riders one by one handed their bowls off to those citizens foolhardy enough to hang around the company and still willing to endure the stench of stale human and horse sweat. Ladislav separated from the company to head towards the tavern. Staring down from astride his stallion, he gave a rather vitriolic stare across the local toughs. "You Israns call yourselves men, yet all you do is drink and swear. Our women are more threatening then you are."
The toughs seemed taken aback that someone would call them out on their lifestyle. One particularly scarred and weathered heavy set man stood up from the porch, his greasy hair hanging in knots about his face. He walked up to a few feet from the muzzle of Ladislav's horse, his hand resting on the handle of his knife in his belt, "And you Vorutans are nothing but inbred hayseeds that would be nothing, still tearing at each other's throats like the mangy mutts you are. What business do you have insulting me and mine?" He spat at the hooves of the horse venomously.
"My business is that you're hiding behind the walls that we Vorutans graciously gave you, sitting idle with your thumbs up your asses. I bet you're not men enough to ride with my company. Hell, I bet you can't keep up to begin with! Let alone when you see a wild Orc astride his battle mount, you'd probably shit yourselves when they give their battle roar," Ladislav derisively chided the greasy man further.
The greasy man's face blanched when he realized that he was getting put into a corner by Ladislav. If he refused his offer, he would lose respect with his own men, and that usually meant a knife in the back and being dumped in the ditch. "Like hells we can't! Men, get your horses. We need to show these sheep fuckers who they've insulted today," the greasy man roared back.
Ladislav nodded and turned his horse back towards his own company, who were reforming back into a column while they waited for the locals to get mounted and join them as well.
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