The Kingdom of Rondón
Committed
Seeking fearless soldiers, merchants, and frontiersmen
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: 400 - 450 years old
Physical Description: Gist: Having just recently conquered their neighboring kingdom of Zephyr, Rondón is going through a golden age, and its Queen is commissioning sea captains as privateers to explore and colonize nearby islands to bring underneath Rondón's green banner.
Capital City: Vinicio, formerly Rondón
Other Major Cities: Selanca, DeRuiz, Baloncia, Brais, Port Calar, Sincaro
Primary Language: Rondi (Fantasy Spanish)
Clothes and Equipment: Ruler: Queen Xiomara Vinicio
Heir: Prince Rafael, Princess Arenna
Primary Export: Gold, stone, wine, horses, lumber, iron, olives, luxury goods
Registered: Apr 5, 2017 19:08:47 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Rondón on Jan 21, 2018 10:06:50 GMT -8
Currently...
Beorn has been renamed "Bonce", and much of it is in ruins. It was hit heavily with the frontal attack of Rondón on Zephyr, and it was where the first massacre of soldiers took place. The rebuild of the city is very slow going, as Queen Xiomara has focused on rebuilding the Silverfire Sea border cities and the destroyed capital instead of Bonce. Many think that soon, this once thriving city will be nothing more than a military fortress as a check point for those going up river.
In the past....
Situated on the Ryel River and Guardian of the Zephyr River that runs toward the capital city, Beorn is one of the most important cities under Zephyr's control. It was built not only to watch the mouth of the Zephyr River that pours into the Ryel, but also as a way to be the first major city on the Ryel to accept trade from ships traveling up and down the Ryel.
Across the mouth of the Zephyr River is the battle fort of Koen, where most of the military is stored. The Tower is high and well-fortified, and can see far up and down the River.
Although trade with Rondon is strictly prohibited, Beorn has a thriving Black Market community with many Rondi contacts, as well as smuggling routes developed beneath the nose of the towering Koen just across the way.
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Alfonso de Rondón
Established
"El Diablo Encarnado"
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 25
Physical Description: Alfonso is a man molded by the crucible of war. He stands an average height of 5'9, but sports an athletic build - striking a balance between strength and agility.
Faded green eyes are set upon a stoic yet handsome face, blemished only by a single scar that runs down his right cheek.
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Clothes and Equipment: Alfonso favors light armor that allows him greater mobility and flexibility, while still protecting vital areas. He is commonly seen wearing a combination of scale and leather armor.
Alfonso wields his father's sword in conjunction with a buckler or other shield. The hilt of the sword appears to be missing a gemstone or some other decorative piece. He always carries a set of javelins.
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Registered: Jan 13, 2018 6:45:54 GMT -8
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Post by Alfonso de Rondón on Jan 23, 2018 15:08:32 GMT -8
Daybreak. Selected Rondí soldiers beat on their war drums as Alfonso's fleet set sail southward, towards the Zephyr stronghold of Beorn. Not only would the rhythm allow the ships to keep a consistent pace, but it would ready the men who were about to spill blood on Zephyrian shores. Morale would be important; heavy casualties were expected. As the Rondí vessels began to close in on their destination, Alfonso gave the order to sound the horns. If the war drums did not alert the Beorn civilians, then the horns would. El Diablo Encarnado hoped this would goad Beorn's soldiers into position. Alfonso's force was divided into three main divisions: Sorcerers, Infantry, and Special Cavalry. The largest was the Infantry Division, coming in on moderately-sized swift ships. Leather had been applied to the front of the ships to act as a flame retardant. The bow of each vessel had been fitted with ramp-like apparatuses, which not only shielded the riders from ranged attacks, but would also provide a means to quickly disembark. Gabriel Taurtoya and Feanor Vala had been assigned to the Infantry Division. They would be accompanied by a personal bodyguard unit outfitted to their preference. However, the Rondí infantry had been specifically equipped with medium armor, tower shields, and their choice of a sword or spear - or both. The Sorcerer Division was the smallest of the three, and they had been spread evenly across the Infantry Division's amphibious vessels. Once the Rondí fleet was within range, Alfonso gave the order for the Sorcerers to cast whatever spells they could to disrupt the Zephyr battle lines - specifically where they thought the lines were weakest. As the Zephyrian lines were being bombarded, the infantry ships would row full force ahead and drive themselves upon land. The ramps would be dropped and the Rondí warriors would spill out. They had been instructed before the battle to form a strong, cohesive, defensive line with their tower shields.
Bombard the Zephyrian defenses on the beach, and then form a defensive line with infantry - that was the main plan. During this amphibious assault a number of ships broke off the main fleet; they were lighter and thus quicker. These vessels carried horses and their riders - the Special Cavalry Division. Some of these men were jinetes belonging to Alfonso's Headhunters; the rest were experienced cavalrymen from Rondón. Kirian Krysin was in this group, alongside Alfonso. There the two stood on their swift ships, coursing through the Ryel River to an empty space on the outskirts of the city - away from the battle. El Diablo Encarnado had heard of this young man's equestrianism - and had hand-chosen him to be his aide during this battle. Thus far, however, Alfonso had neglected to tell him the role of the Special Cavalry. "Disembark there," Alfonso pointed to a flat location on the beach, where the men could mount their stallions and proceed onto land unmolested. "Mount up, Kirian, let's go." Alfonso and Krysin would take the lead as the Special Cavalry Division completely ditched their ships, and sped off southwards - as if to bypass the battle completely and make their way to the city of Zephyr itself!
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Feanor Vala
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 132
Age: 79
Physical Description: He is a tall, sturdily built elf, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. He is a bit taller than most Esdaran males, at a height between 6'2" and 6'3". His typical elfin figure is a lot stronger than it appears, and is clearly battle-scarred from years in the service.
Clothes and Equipment: His equipment is the basic gray-silver-whitish armor of the Esdaran army. A longbow with an accompanying arrow quiver is always slung across his back when not in use, and a battleaxe is always found at his hip or in his hand. Daggers are hidden in his boots and one inside of his belt, in addition to additional straps across his armor that can be used to stow and/or hide additional equipment as necessary.
Registered: Jun 25, 2016 16:11:26 GMT -8
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Post by Feanor Vala on Jan 24, 2018 12:54:45 GMT -8
Feanor made his way to the location of Alfonso, fearing that his Rangers were not quite being used to their full potential.
"Commander Alfonso? A word please. I do not think that my men and I are being used to our full advantage. You have at your disposal, under my command, Mithlondian Rangers. Warriors who have travelled far to protect a city so effectively most in the world did not even hear of us until we wished them to do so. I will follow orders but my elves are not for the frontline. We infiltrate and we scout, harrass and assassinate. Many have seen decades of combat, and will be wasted fruitlessly in an assault such as this. Mithlonde has few enough warriors to spare, I will not sell their lives by acting in a role unfitting for their talents."
Feanor kept his tone even-keeled and neutral. He was not trying to rile up Alfonso, but at the same time the crest of Mithlonde was displayed prominently, a key reminder that he and his warriors were allies of the Rondi, not subservient to them.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on Jan 24, 2018 19:02:30 GMT -8
Sitting in the boat Gabriel clutches the grip of his sword the pommel resting against his forehead. His eyes are closed as his lips move silent reciting a prayer to LaMuerta. The prayer was short and simple recited in his native Rondi repeated over and over as he waits for the boat to make its landing.
"May you guide my sword so that it pierces the heart of the man who killed my father."
The words are filled with a sincerity of hate no man of Gabriel's age should feel. Yet the crime committed against his family had left a black stain upon his heart and one that could only be paid with blood. The Rondi fire within is veins was spurring him towards revenge and it may lead to his destruction this day, only time would tell.
The hull of the ship hits the beach and Gabriel's eyes snap open. He is the first over the railing, landing in the sand with a muted thwump. He was well prepared he wore a mail shirt under a tabard painted in Rondi colors, underneath that he had a padded gambeson. His head was protected by a chain coif and he had a pair of vambraces strapped to his arms. Finally, he had a pair of padded leggins that were capped with greaves to protect his legs. All in all, he was well, if lightly, armored.
Hefting his kite shield and arming sword he raises it above his head and bellows. "For Rondon! For the Queen! For vengeance!" Then the young man charges the rest of his squad behind him. He thirsted for Zephyr blood and he would cut a path through them this day. Sure many would die but they would take three Zephyr heads for every one of them to fall. Of this Gabriel was certain.
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The Kingdom of Rondón
Committed
Seeking fearless soldiers, merchants, and frontiersmen
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: 400 - 450 years old
Physical Description: Gist: Having just recently conquered their neighboring kingdom of Zephyr, Rondón is going through a golden age, and its Queen is commissioning sea captains as privateers to explore and colonize nearby islands to bring underneath Rondón's green banner.
Capital City: Vinicio, formerly Rondón
Other Major Cities: Selanca, DeRuiz, Baloncia, Brais, Port Calar, Sincaro
Primary Language: Rondi (Fantasy Spanish)
Clothes and Equipment: Ruler: Queen Xiomara Vinicio
Heir: Prince Rafael, Princess Arenna
Primary Export: Gold, stone, wine, horses, lumber, iron, olives, luxury goods
Registered: Apr 5, 2017 19:08:47 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Rondón on Jan 24, 2018 19:59:27 GMT -8
[[ ]]
Mist rolled from over the white walls of Beorn, as the drums from the Rondi ships were matched by drums from Beorn's walls. The mist was so thick that it quickly engulfed the incoming Rondi ships, and a dampening effect came in to play, making all sound seem... muted... far away...
Indeed, it was hard to tell how far away they were without sound to guide them, the lap of the waves against the ships somehow only a whisper. The music of both camps was also somehow muted, as if the drums had been turned down.
Then, there came a faint whistle... growing... and growing...
until too late, the huge boulder broke through the mist and slammed into one of the shifts. The shouts and yells of those crushed beneath it, the splintering of wood and cracking of metal, the cacophony of the waves was only a quiet rush, as more and more began to rain down.
The magic defenses came up after only a few moments -- but those few moments of surprise were enough to already land the first blood of the battle. Sorcerers and mages summoned their shields, glowing lights that exploded into cascades of hot sparkles as the huge stones cracked against their arcane walls, splashing into the water.
@soraya murmured an incantation, her face painted like LaMuerta, leather armor clasped to her body and her thick dark hair slicked back into a braid that was tipped with a blade. When she slapped her hands together, the mist dissipated and sound returned, unfurling like a tablecloth snapped away from its table--
-- and it revealed that Beorn was incredibly close, and that the walls had been lit with fire, so when the first ships reached the shore --
cascades of arrows fell from the sky as Rondi soldiers rushed out from beneath the protective magic of the mages still aboard the ships -- many more which needed to be protected so they could get to shore -- including the siege weapons that would no doubt be used. Magic had a price and took time, after all, so the sorcerers and mages could not be depended on to do all of the heavy lifting.
There were no Zephyy Men to meet them on the shores of Beorn, as all attacks came from a distance behind the walls. Thick chains were laid over the river between Beorn and Koen, so no ships could sail up the Zephyr River, and trebuchets were lobbing heavy stones and explosive clay pots over the walls. Soldiers manning the walls were using their archers, as well as their own clay pots as well -- some were arcane-magics exploding on contact, and some pots were filled with a thick, oily substance -- the same substance that coated the stones that were being tossed as well.
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Alfonso de Rondón
Established
"El Diablo Encarnado"
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 25
Physical Description: Alfonso is a man molded by the crucible of war. He stands an average height of 5'9, but sports an athletic build - striking a balance between strength and agility.
Faded green eyes are set upon a stoic yet handsome face, blemished only by a single scar that runs down his right cheek.
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Clothes and Equipment: Alfonso favors light armor that allows him greater mobility and flexibility, while still protecting vital areas. He is commonly seen wearing a combination of scale and leather armor.
Alfonso wields his father's sword in conjunction with a buckler or other shield. The hilt of the sword appears to be missing a gemstone or some other decorative piece. He always carries a set of javelins.
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Registered: Jan 13, 2018 6:45:54 GMT -8
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Post by Alfonso de Rondón on Jan 25, 2018 15:05:11 GMT -8
Alfonso cast an appreciative glance at @soraya , nodding at the approval of her tactic. Turning to one of his aides, Alfonso would give his orders. "Inform the sorcerers that defense is their priority." The aide would nod and began relaying this order; with luck, Alfonso hoped, the Sorcerer Division would devote all they had to the protection of the ships. They would have to do all they could to focus on protecting the disembarked infantry and those still on the ship - but the absolute priority right now should have been on those ships carrying the artillery. "Focus fire on the walls," Alfonso ordered, pointing to indicate a spot in the wall he thought was the weakest. "Bring it down so our infantry can move into the city." Gabriel Taurtoya would have played a role in the advance of the infantry up the beach, and would need to do all that he could to minimize casualties and rush the breach as soon as it appeared. El Diablo Encarnado heeded the wise words of Feanor Vala . Nodding, he would say "You and yours are hereby attached to the Special Cavalry Division. Your capabilities will prove most useful in this excursion." When the Special Cavalry Division's swift vessels broke off from the main fleet, Faenor Vala and Kirian Krysin would have been aboard alongside Alfonso. They disembarked further down the coast, away from the battle and on suitable terrain. Some of the Rondi cavalrymen gave up their mounts so Faenor and his own could accompany El Diablo Encarnado. When all were ready, the Special Cavalry Division darted off on a path leading to the city of Zephyr.
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Kirian Krysin
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Physical Description: A young warrior and minor noble who believes greatly in justice and honour. He roams the land looking for someone worthy to serve with his martial skills, which he has been honing for most of his life.
His preferred weapon is the spear and he is known as an excellent cavalryman, known among his peers for leading the charge from the front and being capable of breaking through strong defences - alone if need be. He is also a surprisingly able leader and tactician, though strategy isn't his strongest suit.
Registered: Jul 31, 2015 13:22:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kirian Krysin on Jan 25, 2018 15:52:18 GMT -8
After dismounting the boats, Kirian would mount a magnificent grey warhorse that was armoured in only the most crucial locations in order to maintain power and speed. The mount and rider seemed to share a great bond, and indeed it was not the first battle that Kirian and the horse had fought together in despite Kirian's young age.
Kirian would stay near the front as the detachment moved, constantly watching around them for the slightest sign of enemy movement. It was likely the enemy expected such a move from them and that a suitable ambush was in place somewhere, but it didn't worry him; he was resolved to pierce through any such attack with speed and ferocity.
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Feanor Vala
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 132
Age: 79
Physical Description: He is a tall, sturdily built elf, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. He is a bit taller than most Esdaran males, at a height between 6'2" and 6'3". His typical elfin figure is a lot stronger than it appears, and is clearly battle-scarred from years in the service.
Clothes and Equipment: His equipment is the basic gray-silver-whitish armor of the Esdaran army. A longbow with an accompanying arrow quiver is always slung across his back when not in use, and a battleaxe is always found at his hip or in his hand. Daggers are hidden in his boots and one inside of his belt, in addition to additional straps across his armor that can be used to stow and/or hide additional equipment as necessary.
Registered: Jun 25, 2016 16:11:26 GMT -8
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Post by Feanor Vala on Jan 26, 2018 5:25:29 GMT -8
Feanor watched impassively as the first boats were destroyed, the few mages not seconded to the other Rondi forces looking about nervously. He supposed he couldn't blame them. They were scholars, more used to studying than anything else, anything even remotely approaching combat being dealt with at extreme distance, with numerous soldiers between them and their foe.
Eventually their own ship reached its destination, his Rangers nearly declining the offer of warhorses, but he forced it onto them, they would need to keep up with the cavalry. It would be worse than useless to fall behind. Not wishing to displace the cavalrymen, they rode in tandem for the most part, the rangers carrying little gear and weighing significantly less than a fully armored warrior. Feanor chose to ride his own horse though, also sticking near the front to keep an eye out for any ambushes.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on Jan 26, 2018 6:19:41 GMT -8
As the mist cleared the infantry line Gabriel was leading faltered slightly. Seeing no Zephyr troops before them they were confused, at least until the first boulder smashed into a ship that had not yet made it to shore. The young men on the beach watched in horror as their compatriots sunk into the depths a few were lucky enough to have survived and they struggle under the weight of their armor to make it to the shallows. Even after their training, the greenhorns were not prepared for the stark reality and many didn't even see the shaft that took their life. Arrows raining down them from the walls so thick they made a buzzing noise as they fell.
It was when the man next to him took a shaft to the leg that Gabriel finally snapped free of his stupor. "FORM UP!" Lifting his kite shield high he catches an arrow that that might have taken his life on it. The tip blunting against the metal coating of the wood and deflecting it to the ground. All around him men snap to attention as veterans or other young men like Gabriel yell at them to come to remember their training. Around him, the remaining members of his squad form up creating an interlocking shell of shields to defend against the arrows. "We must protect the ladders!"
Some of the ships were carrying heavier siege equipment but to take the walls their only option had been ladders. Battering rams or siege towers couldn't possibly fit on the launches sent for landing but ladders would work. As he speaks a clay pot shatters against his shield and his nostrils flare at the familiar smell. "Oil!" He drops his shield and tosses it away. "Close the gape and grab a new shield from the dead if you got any on yours. These Zephyr cowards are going to try and burn us."
Taking his own advice he snatches up a fresh shield from the man who'd died next to him not a moment before. He tries to ignore the ungodly smell that was already wafting up from the battlefield. Blood, shit, and piss all coming together thick enough to gag a man should he breathe into deeply or think on it too long.
The company begins to crawl forward the infantrymen with their shields providing cover from the arrows for the ladder crew. Any time one of them fell, and they did, Gabriel was quick to bark an order to see those in the back move up. He did not know why this responsibility was on him, beyond the fact that among the first to die had been their Sargent, but he would do it because he was the only one not afraid. Or at least that would be the story the men around him would tell.
In truth, he was scared enough that he'd have emptied his bladder had he not done so on the ship at the advice of the now departed Sargent. Yet he considered that fear an affront to his Rondi blood and so he fed it into the burning thirst for vengeance in his soul. These Zephyr cowards would pay tenfold for every drop of Rondi blood they had spilled today. Each one of them would be to him the one-eyed man who killed his father as he hews their heads from their necks.
Against all odds, they reach the wall. They were among the lucky few as many ladder teams had been decimated either by fire, a stone, or arrows. The Rondi archers who were providing as much covering fire as they could focus their arrows around the tops of the walls where the top of the siege ladders came to rest. As the one Gabriel was guarding impacts against the stone he leaps onto it, leading the charge to claim the wall.
Coming over the lip he finds a Zephyr man, a boy really likely a few years younger than Gabriel, about to try and throw the ladder away. Gabriel does not hesitate he grabs his punch dagger from his belt and drives it into the boy's chest, shoving the boy back into the other Zephyr troops. Then Gabriel is over the lip and on top the wall itself surrounded by Zephyr troop. Drawing his arming sword and shield he bellows. "FOR RONDON! FOR THE QUEEN! FOR VENGEANCE!"
The finely made steel of Emanual Taurtoya test the iron of the Zephyr soldiers and finds it wanting. Gabriel fights like a man possessed his father's sword cutting through mail with almost the same ease as flesh as he keeps the top of the ladder clear. More and more Rondi come to join him on the wall as he continues to fight. Would they be able to claim it? Or would the Zephyr troops be able to push them back? Gabriel did not know all he knew was that today, atop this wall, he would spill as much Zephyr blood as he could. The hundreds of dead Rondi on the beach below him would settle for nothing less, his father would settle for nothing less, he would settle for nothing less.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 17, 2024 3:46:59 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2018 11:30:00 GMT -8
There was an active hive mind in place between Sorceress Soraya and the other mages of the battle. Purple and blue and green flares of light exploded in the air with every huge boulder that was tossed at the fleet of incoming Rondi ships. It was when they had come within distance that the Rondi ships could then start firing their trebuchet that Soraya had to lower the protection around the ships -- the spell was meant to make sure that nothing came in, and nothing came out. The skull-painted sorceress' ship came upon the beach that was littered with Rondi bodies -- the smell of blood, of shit and piss, of burning flesh heavy in the air that was beginning to fill with the thick, acrid smoke of the oil that the Zephyy men on Beorn's walls were throwing down. Arrows were raining from the sky -- some on fire, some not -- and a few of the mages were instantly killed. The trebuchet on the Rondi ships were sending flaming balls of fire high into the air, over the walls of Beorn -- but they were similarly being destroyed as Soraya had done for the boulders. The difference was that the Rondi ammunition shattered into flaming pieces that fell all over the ground, rather than rock that sank into the water, so although they had not yet destroyed any buildings in Beorn, things were starting to gradually catch fire. She couldn't summon a storm, because it would put out the Rondi fires as well, and she couldn't summon a wind because of the same problem. So instead, she enchanted the men, summoning and incantation and swept her hands out, coiling snakes slithering like lightning through the air as they slammed into the hearts of men, almost making them Rondi berserkers. They were stronger now, faster now, with quicker reflexes. Other mages did the same effect to the men around them -- and these enchantments would only last for as long as the origin mage stayed alive. However, it was enough to make the Rondi men surge forward toward those gates and those walls -- gates that had been reinforced with magic to be like stone, or even stronger. While men like Gabriel Taurtoya went to get over the walls -- dying by the dozens for every single ladder that was put up, most ladders cut and destroyed or poured with oil and fire as they tried to get them over the walls -- Soraya tried to run over the beach and the ports, using piles of dead Rondi bodies for cover. She could not discern where the Harbor Gate was, given it was enchanted to appear as well (and be just as thick and resilient, if not more so), so Soraya's duty was to get too the wall and f i n d i t, even as man after Rondi man was swiftly taken to LaMuerta.
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Alfonso de Rondón
Established
"El Diablo Encarnado"
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 25
Physical Description: Alfonso is a man molded by the crucible of war. He stands an average height of 5'9, but sports an athletic build - striking a balance between strength and agility.
Faded green eyes are set upon a stoic yet handsome face, blemished only by a single scar that runs down his right cheek.
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Clothes and Equipment: Alfonso favors light armor that allows him greater mobility and flexibility, while still protecting vital areas. He is commonly seen wearing a combination of scale and leather armor.
Alfonso wields his father's sword in conjunction with a buckler or other shield. The hilt of the sword appears to be missing a gemstone or some other decorative piece. He always carries a set of javelins.
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Registered: Jan 13, 2018 6:45:54 GMT -8
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Post by Alfonso de Rondón on Jan 28, 2018 5:31:31 GMT -8
The efforts of Gabriel Taurtoya and @soraya would hopefully distract the defenders of Beorn. South of the battle, the Special Cavalry had changed direction and now headed east, back towards the city. Alfonso turned to Feanor Vala and Kirian Krysin . "You," El Diablo Encarnado pointed at Feanor, "you and your rangers will provide cover as we approach the gate. Everyone else, prepare to charge the defenders outside the gate. Afterwards," Alfonso pulled a grappling hook from the horse's saddle, "we shall scale the walls."
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Feanor Vala
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 132
Age: 79
Physical Description: He is a tall, sturdily built elf, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. He is a bit taller than most Esdaran males, at a height between 6'2" and 6'3". His typical elfin figure is a lot stronger than it appears, and is clearly battle-scarred from years in the service.
Clothes and Equipment: His equipment is the basic gray-silver-whitish armor of the Esdaran army. A longbow with an accompanying arrow quiver is always slung across his back when not in use, and a battleaxe is always found at his hip or in his hand. Daggers are hidden in his boots and one inside of his belt, in addition to additional straps across his armor that can be used to stow and/or hide additional equipment as necessary.
Registered: Jun 25, 2016 16:11:26 GMT -8
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Post by Feanor Vala on Jan 29, 2018 5:39:41 GMT -8
Feanor dismounted his horse, the rest of his Rangers following suit as they approached, taking cover wherever possible. They did not follow traditional doctrine of massed volleys, rather each of his three dozen rangers were expert marksmen, honed by decades, or even centuries of warfare defending their city from all the horrors unleashed in the Cataclysm. The goal was to approach unseen, hopefully the cavalry would draw most of the attention away from a few moving shapes.
"Fire at will," Was the only command needed, and arrows would begin falling amongst the troops defending the gate and walls. Officers would be targeted first, as would anyone manning siege weapons. Feanor himself selected what appeared to be the officer in charge of the gate barricades, letting fly an arrow with some satisfaction.
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on Jan 29, 2018 13:02:56 GMT -8
Each swing of Gabriel's sword felt as though he was slicing the blade through water. Getting to the wall had been an exhausting effort and the young man did not know if it had taken hours or days to cross the beach as men died all around him. When they'd finally gotten the ladder in place he'd felt a surge of adrenaline, fatigue seeming to vanish from his limbs as he'd flown to the top of the wall. Yet now that he was upon it, exhaustion was once again digging its claws into his muscles trying to drag him down.
Up, down, left, right. The finest Rondi steel cuts through the press of Zephyr men around him. The cheap iron chain and swords the average infantryman wielded was barely a match for the master craft steel. Yet he was slowing down, he misses what should have been an easy parry and feels the tip of a broadsword clang off his vambrace. The jarring shock of the impact is almost enough to drive his sword from his grasp. As Gabriel tries to recover he sees the follow-up blow coming but it is knocked aside by the body of one of Gabriel's countrymen. The man pierced by an arrow is sent tumbling over the wall.
Before Gabriel's would be killer can respond Gabriel recovers and thrusts his sword up and under, catching the Zephyr soldier in his unguarded throat. Blood sprays out as the artery is pierced the man clutching at it gurgling his last breath. Gabriel gets a momentary spot of calm as he has enough Rondi around him on the wall now to have on side protected. For the longest time, they had died almost as quickly as they could mount the wall. Some of the ladders had been kicked down sending men halfway up screaming to their deaths as others scrambled for cover. Some ladders had been drenched in oil the fires still blazing brightly. Yet almost as fast meant that some of the Rondi's on the wall managed to live. One in every ten perhaps?
Below bodies are dragged out of the way, more ladders are brought up the beach, and more men die to arrows, boulders, and fire. So many corpses already lie in the sand Gabriel can't help but wonder how many villages just lost every man that had lived in them. Yet as the Rondi foothold on the wall solidifies less and less men die on the beach as Zephyr attention focuses in on retaking the wall. It was coming at a terrible bloody cost but they were making progress. They would take Beorn even if a hundred, no a thousand Rodi died for every inch of ground they claimed.
Gabriel feels a tingling sensation in his body as new energy floods through him. He does not know what is causing this, he does not know that down below Soraya de la Cruz has just cast her magic to bolster the flagging strength of the army. All he knows is that he can suddenly swing his sword again, not only that but he can swing it harder and faster than he had before. "THE BLESSING OF LAMURETA IS WITH US MEN!" It is the only explanation their goddess had seen fit to aid them in dealing death to the Zephyr bastard.
"DO NOT LET HER GRACE GO TO WASTE! WITH ME! TO THE GATEHOUSE!" With a mighty roar he swings his sword at an enemy soldier, his father's blade collides with Zephyr iron and cleaves it in twain. That sight, combined with the flood of energy from the mages is enough to bolster the other attackers around Gabriel. With a roar they rush towards the gatehouse, attacking like demons from the pit of hell itself. Their Rondi blood burns hot with righteous fury but even that pales to what spurs Gabriel on. The hatred burning in the young man's gaze coupled with his new ferocity is enough to strike fear into some of the defenders before him. For the moment they had momentum but those on the wall were still outnumbered. Without some support it was hard to say how much longer those on the wall would last.
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Kirian Krysin
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Physical Description: A young warrior and minor noble who believes greatly in justice and honour. He roams the land looking for someone worthy to serve with his martial skills, which he has been honing for most of his life.
His preferred weapon is the spear and he is known as an excellent cavalryman, known among his peers for leading the charge from the front and being capable of breaking through strong defences - alone if need be. He is also a surprisingly able leader and tactician, though strategy isn't his strongest suit.
Registered: Jul 31, 2015 13:22:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kirian Krysin on Jan 29, 2018 15:03:02 GMT -8
As the division turned east, Kirian turned his horse to follow them with his spear gripped lightly in his hand. He had no other weapon; no bow, javelin or sword to use if his spear was taken from him, just the spear itself. Kirian knew that they were about to engage the enemy, about to risk their lives for a cause that he hoped in his heart was just enough to make up for all the blood that would be spilled.
Would he die today? Would his armour fail him and have him fall to an arrow or a sword, or would he be carried forward by the tip of his spear into the enemy ranks and out beyond like a piercing ray of light through dark clouds? He was only a mercenary to those Rondi forces, yet he had been placed in a position both precarious and possibly crucial to their victory as part of the Special Cavalry Division. He had no idea what the greater strategy was, no access to scout reports or the movements of the enemy... He was, for all intents and purposes, placing his trust blindly in his commander just as his commander placed his trust in Kirian and his fellow cavalrymen.
The order came - charge the enemy ranks outside the wall, then scale it. For justice and his honour, Kirian would bet his life on making that charge a resounding success.
As his horse galloped, Kirian raised his spear above his head and had it spin in a wide circle between his hands, the cast it back down to his right side and thrust it forward towards the gate of Beorn in the distance as though to declare his intention.
"I, Kirian Krysin, will break through the enemy!"
Suddenly he spurred his horse by the sides and by the reins and a second later, Kirian's trusty warhorse began to gallop even harder. Within seconds he was racing ahead of the rest of the division with a growing gap between them, right towards the enemy.
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The Kingdom of Rondón
Committed
Seeking fearless soldiers, merchants, and frontiersmen
Roleplay posts: 96
Age: 400 - 450 years old
Physical Description: Gist: Having just recently conquered their neighboring kingdom of Zephyr, Rondón is going through a golden age, and its Queen is commissioning sea captains as privateers to explore and colonize nearby islands to bring underneath Rondón's green banner.
Capital City: Vinicio, formerly Rondón
Other Major Cities: Selanca, DeRuiz, Baloncia, Brais, Port Calar, Sincaro
Primary Language: Rondi (Fantasy Spanish)
Clothes and Equipment: Ruler: Queen Xiomara Vinicio
Heir: Prince Rafael, Princess Arenna
Primary Export: Gold, stone, wine, horses, lumber, iron, olives, luxury goods
Registered: Apr 5, 2017 19:08:47 GMT -8
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Post by The Kingdom of Rondón on Feb 2, 2018 7:52:07 GMT -8
Gabriel Taurtoya was valiant on the wall, his rallying cry heard by the hundreds -- probably thousands -- of men that were trying to come up from the beach. Once he was over the wall, he could see how wide and how stout Beorn truly was -- could see the magical barriers that were preventing the burning ammunition tossed by Rondi's trebuchet from hitting their marks. He could also see the hundreds of Zephyy men, their faces grim and determined to protect their home from blood-thirsty invaders and conquerors -- Rondi men and women that had tortured them for centuries. But that is not what Gabriel thought of himself as, that is not what every Rondi man behind him -- dead, or otherwise -- thought, either. They would finally put an end to a country poisoned by terrible people with terrible morals. LaMuerta was with them, giving them strength (not realizing that it was @soraya and the efforts of her mages). They fought like savages once they could crawl over the walls, two or three good ladders down defended by the Rondi men who could get there. There was no way that that would be enough, however. There were too many Zephyy men, and their archers were picking them off like flies.
Still, Gabriel was a lion, a symbol of the Rondi Rage that could be seen and could be shared. The vision of him was enough to make the hearts of the men behind him harden in fury, their minds narrowed in single-minded determination to follow him -- for he was the voice of Rondon for these troops of men able to get over the walls. They were gaining inches.... but they could not sustain... ... until they heard the Rondi Trumpets that blasted like T H U N D E R from the eastern Land Gate of Beorn, where Alfonso de Rondón was making his charge with Feanor Vala and Kirian Krysin. It ripped attention away from some of the Zephyy men, who paid for it with their lives amidst the shout of their Zephyy commanders reminding them to stay on task. Hundreds of Zephyy men were lined up outside the Land Gate of Beorn, the flag of Zephyr and the flag of Beorn held proudly in their midst. They were clearly well-armored, and were just as clearly determined to protect what was their own. They, however, did not have horses, and seeing the Rondi Cavalry, made the front line of men -- fodder -- take a step back. They were archers, and there were boltmen, they were handled with spears -- for they knew that Rondon was famous for its war horses and cavalry and equine might -- and even more men lined the walls. As the mounted infantry made their charge, Kirian Krysin led them with his own battle cry, his armor brilliant and his horse like a beast out of legend unto the Zephyy infantry. The Rondi trumpets of the mounted infantry shattered into the atmosphere, drowning out the screams of terror and death from the Harbor Gate beach-- And they road. They charged for the land gate, no need for war drums as the hundreds of hooves of the Rondi horses made a symphony of inevitable death. Behind the mounted infantry were the sleek and beautiful Mithlonde unit of Feanor Vala slid from their horses, unseen in the coming tidal wave of Rondi fury-- And when the Zephyy archers fired their horde arrows, they found many of their arrows shot down by those of the still-unseen Mithlonde archers, so great was the elven skill, allowing for Krysin's mounted infantry to take so few loses that a cry of anguish could actually be heard from the Zephyy line. The Mithlonde archers began to target anyone that seemed of importance -- anyone with fancier armor, with plumes, with regalia to show them as officers -- and while some of their arrows hit true, it was quickly made evident that the Zephyy officers -- true officers of noble blood -- had some sort of charm on them that seemed to deal with arrows as if they were nothing more than flies, mini arcane shields bubbling where arrows might have hit. Zephyy sharpshooters on the wall began to target the Mithlonde archers -- for although those on the ground could perhaps not see them, those upon the walls had better views -- and as trained archers and hunters themselves, they knew how to follow trajectory to find the shooter. It was when Krysin's cavalry was close enough to almost clash that three men upon the walls -- dressed as regular Zephyy soldiers -- lifted their arms, and the ground rumbled -- not for hooves, not for fury -- but for revenge as Krysin and the first few lines of charging horses managed to cross a magical leyline... but the others were caught in sudden chasms opening making Rondi rider and horse scream in surprise and agony as a "crater" twelve feet wide and long enough for the Zephyy defensive line opened up. It wasn't deep but then, it didn't have to be deep -- six feet, deep enough for a grave, was enough. Hundreds of horses fell, so many dying as necks and legs were snapped, riders thrown into the chaos of the tumbling boulders and earth, suffering the same fate as their riders. After all, these were not cavalrymen, but infantrymen while Alfonso de Rondón took the special mounted cavalry elsewhere. For Kirian Krysin, his line of horses no doubt smashed into the first several lines of men, but the swelling cacophony of Rondi Failure behind his back severely effected the other men with him. Men were dying all around him... pulled from their horses, impaled in their saddles, and the arrows continued to rain down. Win Beorn, Alfonso, and you shall have your prize. What would El Diablo Incarnado do?
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Feanor Vala
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 132
Age: 79
Physical Description: He is a tall, sturdily built elf, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. He is a bit taller than most Esdaran males, at a height between 6'2" and 6'3". His typical elfin figure is a lot stronger than it appears, and is clearly battle-scarred from years in the service.
Clothes and Equipment: His equipment is the basic gray-silver-whitish armor of the Esdaran army. A longbow with an accompanying arrow quiver is always slung across his back when not in use, and a battleaxe is always found at his hip or in his hand. Daggers are hidden in his boots and one inside of his belt, in addition to additional straps across his armor that can be used to stow and/or hide additional equipment as necessary.
Registered: Jun 25, 2016 16:11:26 GMT -8
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Post by Feanor Vala on Feb 2, 2018 12:52:26 GMT -8
This was the key moment then. And many of the Rangers gave their last breath for another country, the first time in a millennia that any Mithlondian had done so, a moment that would no doubt linger on Feanor's mind after the fight was over. For now he was focused on killing as many Zephyy as possible, constantly switching positions to take another shot. Several Rangers drew staffs, revealing themselves as mages and beginning a fierce battle of guile with the Zephyy mages.
The crater that had wreaked so much havoc on the cavalry began to close as a pair of mages focused their power on filling in the dirt. Officers found their protective charms failing, the mages working in close tandem with the archers to eliminate their target in the brief moments the protection was gone. Half the remaining Rangers began focusing on the sharpshooter on the wall, the remaining half providing cover for the Rondi that did make the charge. Many a blow that would have resulted in a dead Rondi was instead halted as long-feathered shafts punctured chests, severed arteries and in one spectacular case impacting a crossbow bolt before it could be launched, sending both projectiles through the skull of the wielded.
Feanor, architect of the above shot, noted the increasing casualties amongst his own elves. Another hand signal told his remaining Rangers to switch to their enchanted arrows. Each Ranger had a few arrows with some truly explosive potential. Feanor nocked his own and took careful aim at one of the gates supports, releasing the arrow within seconds of the Rangers, each of whom was targeting the soldiers on the wall now, not wanting to accidentally harm their allies.
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Kirian Krysin
Established
Roleplay posts: 17
Physical Description: A young warrior and minor noble who believes greatly in justice and honour. He roams the land looking for someone worthy to serve with his martial skills, which he has been honing for most of his life.
His preferred weapon is the spear and he is known as an excellent cavalryman, known among his peers for leading the charge from the front and being capable of breaking through strong defences - alone if need be. He is also a surprisingly able leader and tactician, though strategy isn't his strongest suit.
Registered: Jul 31, 2015 13:22:36 GMT -8
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Post by Kirian Krysin on Feb 2, 2018 15:22:58 GMT -8
Kirian shattered into the enemy formation, his spear piercing through the breastplate of one unlucky soldier as though that Zephyy steel might as well have been paper. The sound of one man dying was drowned out as the sound of ferocious clashing began, and battle took its place soon after, whereupon Kirian raised his spear with soldier still part of his weapon and swiped him off into his fellows like a ragdoll of flesh. In those initial few seconds, every Zephyy spear at the front would likely have a mounted soldier to strike at and once those behind them had recovered enough to begin thrusting, Kirian's own spear would move in such a way as to deflect any threat.
The noble's warhorse spurred around in a circle, creating a small space around them and kicking back furiously with force enough to shatter ribs and skulls. It was this moment that Kirian noticed the Zephyy trap, as a sea of horses and riders descended into a pit like water spilling over a bowl. He knew immediately that he was now in a perilous position, that he and those few at the front who reached the Zephyr lines were now horrendously outnumbered.
It took him barely a second to suddenly turn and dismount, his feet hitting the ground in a spring and a large slap against his horse's rear to send it spurring off towards safety. Now on foot, Kirian's brought his spear to bear and turned back to the enemy soldiers with a grim determination to survive. "Zephyr soldiers! You have given me no choice now but to fight each and every one of you to ensure the survival of both myself and my allies!" Kirian's voice cried out around him. "Those who dare, come forward and be slain. Those who wish to live, turn and flee. Those cowards who do neither, I will soon be with you!"
And with that he flew back into the fray of battle, each attack from those who dared strike him met with an expert block or timely dodge; and each movement of his spear that was not for defense would find its mark in the flesh of one of a foe until fear at his presence would creep into the hearts of them. Kirian knew now that there was no retreat, only victory or death - and that the soldiers would have to fight harder and better than every enemy they found until death took them or life spared them. Perhaps, in Kirian's frantic battle, he might inspire some of his fellows to reach new limits.
But simply matching the enemy was not Kirian's goal. Zephyr's soldiers were lined up to defend a gate and while he still lived, Kirian saw no recourse but to break through it. He thrust his spear forward, body swiftly following behind it, and began to fight and kill every lesser warrior in front of him until he was in the midst of Zephyr's lines. With wide sweeps of his spear he would clear the space around him, hold back the offenses of the enemy and punish each mistake with defeat and death while endlessly pushing forward through their ranks.
Even if Kirian was the only soldier remaining to fight, he would not stop until either the Zephyy were behind him, or his life was.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 17, 2024 3:46:59 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 2, 2018 18:22:39 GMT -8
Soraya knew as she ran along the blood-drenched beach -- turning sand into deep, dark wine-colored mud -- that she would never, ever be able to wash the dirtiness she felt from her skin, would never be able to unhear the sounds of men dying, being sent to LaMuerta. Vaguely, she knew that many mages were trying to save men on the beach, she could see that they were trying to do so as she tried in vain to get to the wall. There were so many men trying to get to the wall. Bodies were crumpled against it like forgotten mounds of rancid laundry, debris of ropes and ladders shattered along the corpses and remains. Her spell to invigorate soldiers was like a weight on her soul -- she could feel the drain of her as she kept their stamina, their health, their vitality -- their strength and speed and reflexes -- alive and strong, but like weights on a string, she could feel the death of each men, the lightness of the load of her spell -- and one thread in particular, Gabriel Taurtoya, seemed to shine brightly in her mind's eye, gaining the mana she had been feeding into fallen soldiers instead. But it wouldn't be enough. Not while the mages were focused on the dying -- and not on the living. A harsh reality was sent out via her telepathic link to them, noticing how few there were left from where they started. Her dark hair was matted with sweat and blood and grime, but it was still, for the most part, pulled back into that slick, thick braid that fell between her shoulder blades. Leave the dying men to LaMuerta -- she is a far better comfort than the realities they will have to live with. I need focus now -- throw sand into the faces of the Zephyy on the wall, distract them from those climbing the ladders!
Soraya took cover in a dune, and she could feel the mind's and mana of the other Rondi mages on the beach pool with hers, and whirling onto her feet, she threw up her hands and an incredible wall of scarlet sand whooshed into existence, tall, tall taller than the wall around Beorn, and then it went surging forward like a tidal wave, it's gale rushing over the men on the wall. " GO, YOU IDIOTS!" Soraya snapped at the Rondi men that were unaffected by the sand, and they began to rush the ladders while the mages held the line, using Soraya as point. The winds rushed all around her as the sand uncovered other bodies, depleting itself along the beach as it rushed into Beorn-- P A I N
It lanced into her shoulder and knocked her off her feet, stealing her breath as she went falling onto her back. The sand wall kept itself for a few moments as she heard a ringing in her ears and for a moment, heard none of the screams and cries of agony and war. Her hand swept to where a crossbow bolt was lodged into her shoulder, and she turned onto her side just before the sand attack faded.... ... to see a softened glow around a portion of the wall, where ever grain of sand that hit upon it made a ripple of magic. It was the disguised Harbor Gate, and gritting her teeth, she stood upon the sand, sloshing in the Ryel River that took advantage of the lack of sand to hold it back and swept ever closer. She drew upon her own power, feeling the surge in her blood. I found the gate, she threw telepathically to her mages (even less now than there were before the sand blast). As if the arms of LaMuerta were around her, she felt the skull lines painted on her face buzz, the flowers around her eyes blossom in her mind's eye with the sight and smell and vision of power. The pain in her shoulder ebbed away, the hot stickiness of the blood coursing down her arm was a dream away. There were now Zephyy soldiers to watch her, too panicked by the surge of Rondi that had taken advantage of the sand blast to climb the ladders, and she could hear LaMuerta's kind and warm voice in her ear, stroking sweaty hair from her temple. Let. Go.
And the Harbor Gate on Beorn's beach BLASTED open from a surging rocket of power from Soraya, throwing stone, wood, and men -- Zephyy and Rondi both -- high into the air, the sound of it screaming across the battlefield and beyond as magic that appeared to be the golden roses of LaMuerta and Rondon and Xiomara burst into the air and the magic drifted down like rose petals. Rose petals on a field of dead. And as Soraya collapsed onto her knees in the filthy, bloody, disgusting, inches-deep water of the Ryel, the Rondi men on the beach rallied and surged through the sudden hole in the wall, just in time to witness Gabriel Taurtoya's own valiant efforts. There would still be fighting inside Beorn, high resistant and magical attacks of fire and lightning on the invading Rondi men, returned with steel and arcane from Rondi itself, but perhaps the sound of the blast here would help spur on those attacking at the River and Land Gates
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Gabriel Taurtoya
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: 24
Physical Description: Standing just under six even, lean and lithe, with feathery chestnut hair that is often quite messy. His brown eyes could be described as soulful, his features slightly cherubic and youthful as he is unable to grow a beard. Something that bothers him a fair bit.
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Clothes and Equipment: A leather jerkin for protection, his father's rapier, and traveling supplies.
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Registered: Jan 12, 2018 17:10:29 GMT -8
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Post by Gabriel Taurtoya on Feb 2, 2018 19:33:11 GMT -8
Like a raging bull, Gabriel charged into the Zephyy line, his father's blade acting as his horn. He gored a man the arming sword punching through armor and plate as though it wasn't even there. The man's guts spilling from the wound as Gabriel tore the blade free. The young man who had mere months ago been little more than an apprentice blacksmith stood against impossible odds and in the doing became a symbol. Every man he killed, every blow he shrugged off, every roar of his voice made him less a man and more a force.
Yet it was not enough.
The momentum his mad charge gave could only carry the Rondi so far. They were a nail being driven into the wood and while Gabriel had provided a mighty blow they'd hit a knot. They'd not sunk in deep enough on that first blow and now they were stuck. The Zephyy men were clustered around them and they began to push back. The Rondi push ground to a halt and it would only be a matter of time before they would be pushed back. Those precious inches that had been bought with the lives of the dead would be swallowed back up if nothing changed.
Then the blessing ended.
The weight of his exhaustion hit Gabriel hard enough that he barely felt the sword that finally pierced his mail and gouged a hole in his shoulder. The shield that should have been there to block the attack had sagged as it became impossibly heavy to muscles sore from ignored fatigue and unnatural use. The young man who had been the only thing propping up the morale of the defenders on the wall dropped to his knees looking up into the face of the Zephyy who was about to kill him.
Death should not have looked so terrified.
Just as he had torn his blade from the guts of that Zephyy an eternity ago, the young soldier who seemed to be almost scared out of his wits tore his blade out of Gabriel's shoulder. The son of Emanuel Taurtoya gasps in pain the first sign vocal sign of weakness he'd shown. This seemed to bolster the young soldier's determination. The mask of fear turning to one of hate and determination as he goes to bring his sword, that worthless piece of Zephyy iron down upon Gabriel's head. The young Rondi's now hazy mind wondering why LaMuerta had shown her blessing only to so quickly and cruelly take it away.
Red sands blow in.
At first, Gabriel thought the red was a haze of blood falling across his eyes. The last thing he would see before his damnation. For surely he would be doomed to wander the earth as a ghost having died without avenging his father. It takes him a moment to realize the Zephyy are screaming. Another to realize that the haze is caused by sand. Sand that seemed to drive into the eyes of the Zephyy while leaving Rondi men unharmed. "I am sorry I ever doubted." He whispers this prayer to LaMeurta who had clearly chosen a new way to help her favored people.
And the tide turned.
All around him Rondi men tried to figure out what was going on until a shouted command snapped them back to reality. A flood of righteous Rondi came up the ladders. While the Zephyy still tried to recover the Rondi began to kill them. the wall was soon thick with Rondi, a new strike of the hammer driving the nail home. Gabriel's body was too weary to move, too wounded to fight, too numb to feel. Yet he would not let others spill blood while he did nothing. With a mighty roar, the raging bull surged to his feet the Rondi around him heard his renewed cry and joined him.
The young bull charged.
Gabriel's shield clatters to the ground, his left arm made near useless by his injury. But his right could still hold a blade even if it could barely do more than that. Like a man possessed he slams into a clump of Zephy soldiers, the press of his fellows at his back carrying him through. They would take the gate, they would lay this city bare, they would have victory. He could not kill as he once had instead he bull rushed a man right off the wall sending him plummeting to his death Gabriel almost losing his own footing in the process.
But the world was torn away.
There had been a noise so loud it may have been LaMuerta throwing open the way to the land of the dead. A force had hammered into Gabriel's back, even had he not already been half ready to fall over he'd not have been able to stand against the force of the impact. He'd been sent spiraling into the air and as he began to fall he'd watched the world rush up to meet him before all went black. For the second time that day he faced death this time too tired to regret.
It was not yet his time.
The sound of the ongoing battle rouses Gabriel from his brief slumber. Above him, he can see the sky, cloudy from smoke tinged orange with fire yet the sun still streams through the hole in the roof. He was laying in a pile of hay splinters of slightly rotted wood all around him. He'd crashed through the roof of an old disused stable near the walls somewhere close to the gate. With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet. So exhausted he can't even be bothered to marvel that he is still alive. After all, he felt like he was dead.
Outside, the city was beginning to fall.
Gabriel could see a massive hole in the wall where gate must have once stood. He could only just see it from his position but he could still hear the sounds of battle. The gate had fallen and now the Rondi are free to pour into the city. Without the need to scale the wall, a wall that had already almost been taken thanks to the sandstorm, the Rondi infantry could bring their full force to bear and they did so gladly. There is no side of his arming sword, his father's sword he must have lost it in the fall. So drawing his dagger Gabriel staggers towards the sound of battle. The young bull was not finished yet.
Inside, the battle rages on.
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Alfonso de Rondón
Established
"El Diablo Encarnado"
Roleplay posts: 12
Age: 25
Physical Description: Alfonso is a man molded by the crucible of war. He stands an average height of 5'9, but sports an athletic build - striking a balance between strength and agility.
Faded green eyes are set upon a stoic yet handsome face, blemished only by a single scar that runs down his right cheek.
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Clothes and Equipment: Alfonso favors light armor that allows him greater mobility and flexibility, while still protecting vital areas. He is commonly seen wearing a combination of scale and leather armor.
Alfonso wields his father's sword in conjunction with a buckler or other shield. The hilt of the sword appears to be missing a gemstone or some other decorative piece. He always carries a set of javelins.
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Registered: Jan 13, 2018 6:45:54 GMT -8
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Post by Alfonso de Rondón on Feb 3, 2018 6:03:38 GMT -8
Alfonso wanted to cry out and order Kirian Krysin to remain with the group - but in that moment he hesitated. The young warrior led a zealous charge into the gate defenders. It was a courageous feat, but the cunning magic of Beorn's defenders swallowed the charge as a gaping maw opened beneath them. "Halt!" Alfonso cried, his horse skidding to a sudden halt. "Dismount, form line!" The remaining cavalry quickly dismounted their horses and, amid the ranged assault, formed a cohesive line with their shields - a shieldwall. The jinetes[/s], a specialized unit under Alfonso's command, would find opportunities to hurl their javelins forth and into the gate defenders. The missiles struck with precision and deadly efficiency, piercing even the most reliable armor. This is what the Headhunters were known for. Feanor Vala and his men deserved utmost recognition, not only for their efforts to cover the advance, but also for their attempts to swell the hole that had consumed the cavalry charge. Provided the hole was soon filled, Alfonso and the rest of the now-dismounted men would swarm forward and join Kirian Krysin in his moment of need. The goal here was to scale the walls with the grappling hooks - once the defenders outside the gate were dealt with. This would hopefully create the potential for a pincer attack in league with Gabriel's own assault.
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