Gardens of the Moon (Inactive)

Game Master Aku Warashi

Ganoes Paran: "I want to be a soldier. A hero."
Whiskeyjack: "You'll grow out of it."


51 to 100 of 225 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | next > last >>

Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

When do we fight, Sir? Sloade says and instantly regrets it. Probably not the right time to ask it he thinks to himself, but he is anxious to start training.


The man smiles, as he pull his sword, taking a wide stance.

"Eager, eh? Whenever you are ready, recruit." he says.

That, attracts a lot of attention, as everyone around stop to check what will happen. The mood is particularly humorous and it does not seem that Whiskeyjack in in habit of being mean to others.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

Sloade gulps audibly. Now you've done it, you fool! if you back down, you will definately get latrine duty or be kicked out of whatever brigade Whiskeyjack said you were in.

Yes Sir! Green Howl shouts as he makes his warface and draws his short sword. ARROOOO! He will clumsily attack the seasoned veteran making sure his attack is not lethal.

Attack (Non-Lethal): 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 - 4 = 6

Whoo Hoo! First combat dice roll of the game! Never thought it would be against a 'Friendly' :)


Atk: 1d20 ⇒ 20
Dmg(Non-lethal): 8d8 ⇒ (7, 7, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 2) = 38

It all happened too fast.

Green charged, the next moment he was sprayed on the ground, beaten and unconscious.

What the Lieutenant did? None of you are sure. The sword was a blur in his hands, Recruit Green did not even saw that hit him.

The crowd, gathering, laughed away and went in their business, disappointed it ended that fast.

"Now, report to your Sergeant, and take Green Howl with you. You are his brother, and it is your duty to look out for the person at your side, and prevent them from doing harsh things. Because of that, All of his tasks, are to be performed by the two of you. Do you understand it recruits?" he says firmly.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

Green Howl knew he didn't stand a chance, but he didn't think it would be over that fast! The blades flashed before his eyes and the pain around his body exploded-ribs, shin, arm (that one sent his blade flying!), back, buttocks, ribs again, thigh and finally and mercifully, the back of his head. The last thing Green Howl saw was the ground coming up to embrace him and then the pain died away-for the moment.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea saw the budding challenge and watches with great interest. She was curious about how these Malazanians would handle such challenges of authority, and was looking forward to gauging the abilities of her companions and leaders.

But it was over so quickly. Too quickly. She was quite disappointed.

With a tight lipped frown, she responds "Yes Sir."

So we must pay for his short comings? I guess that would be true on the battlefield, given how these people fight. And it isn't that different from what I'm used to. It just feels... odd.

She moves forward to take her portion of the their shared burden.


Moranth Swashbuckler 1 [HP 12/12 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB + 2 | CMD:14 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+0 | Init:+3 | Per:+0 | Stealth +5 | Intimidate:+7 | Acrobatics: +8]

Ti'ck looks over at Shea, confused to their new role. "He failed. Leave army now? Much shame in the loss. Sir?" Ti'ck asks. The malazan are clearly much kinder to their soldiers...a loss like that would have left me as caste-less. A loss better then that one brought me here.

She follows Shea's lead however, going to help lift their beaten burden. "Where Sergeant? Sir."


”Fail in training all you want.” he says to Ti’ck ”It makes you learn, it makes you better. Fail at the battle, and you are dead.”


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

After that, it’s only a matter of time until you meet Dujek, and again, he seems decent enough.
Rumors says he was has been helping Kellanved since the beginning to the empire, and his insights in battle, had kept he a large part of his fellows alive.

--

As Whiskeyjack had promised, the next days are dedicated to training.
Formations, war games, shield walls, learn how to dig, and dig faster.
You were encouraged to battle together, and trust the person at your side. The most distinguished things perhaps are the way they deal with their soldiers.

In Malaz army, each soldier is encouraged to think for himself. Orders must be followed without question, but the soldiers are free and encouraged to suggest modifications on the squad strategy, on how to best use their talents. More than that, they are encouraged to be prepared for each situation, and because of that, there’s a lot of small, seemly worthless stuff they keep carrying, trying to anticipate any need or situation.

After a week of training, this become more apparent, instead of forcing the soldiers into a role and model, they teach, and let each one, adapt to his own pace and style.

A heavy infantry is still a heavy infantry, he knows all the tactics and strategies, however, he understand it, he is allowed to think and imagine scenarios, instead of being forcefully told about it.

--

@Green Howl

After the devastating defeat to Whiskeyjack, you feel a bit insecure. You had already known you were not his match, but you had no idea that you were that outmatched.
As the days passes, you learned some interesting things. Instead of having a bad effect, the other soldiers respected you for your courage. At the camp fire, finally you listened to them talking and understood why of that behavior.

Whiskeyjack is training partner to Dassem Ultor, The First Sword of The Empire, and it is said, that Dassem has trouble overcoming Whiskeyjack defenses.


1 person marked this as a favorite.
Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

When he opened his eyes, Sloade was sure that he would find himself outside of camp-thrown out like so much camp litter. He was surprised to find himself lying in a cot in a tent. He saw the woman and the armored hulk standing above him. They did not look pleased, at least the woman didn’t, he couldn’t tell about the one in the armor. Come to think of it, the woman never looked pleased. Sloade tried to figure it all out but his head was on fire in fact his whole body was on fire. Every part of him ached and he was sure he would never stand again or move his arms. I guess I lost? he said to the two and tried to laugh but instead erupted in a coughing fit, which in turn caused more pain to ripple through his body. Sloade lets out a pained Ohhh and closed his eyes again.

The next couple of days the pain in his body lessened more and more, as he began his training under Dujek. His encounter with Whiskeyjack showed him that he had a lot to learn and learn he did. He paid attention when Dujek spoke. He paid attention when the woman spoke, who he found out is named Shea. He listened when the armored woman spoke, who he found out is named Ti’ck. He listened and watched everyone.

Sloade was surprised that he was something of a celebrity among the ranks. Some called him brave, some called him foolish, some called him reckless but all seemed to respect him. He endured many good-natured ribbing: ‘You’re lucky you still have your head to eat your chow!’, ‘Hey Green Howl, Whiskeyjack needs someone to demonstrate swordwork on!’ and his personal favorite: ‘There goes Green Howl In Pain’. He did try to avoid Whiskeyjack though, for if the man challenged him again, Green Howl would probably rise up to meet it – and get beat back down for his trouble!


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea sat on a stool, resting after the harsh combination of training and chores, when the bulky one rose from his deep slumber. At his rhetorical question, she merely looked him in the face for a moment and nodded. Though his laughter turned coughing fit did manage to wring a smirk from her.

- - - - -

The next morning Sloade awakens to a warm, wet feeling on his chest and arms, Shea standing over him with her eyes closed, mouthing something silently, her hands open a warm compress on his chest. Upon his stirring, she opens her eyes and nods without looking at him "Whiskeyjack did quite a number on you. Nearly killed you, despite him trying to go gentle."

Removing the cloth and tossing it in a bowl, she begins to walk away but stops at the door to the tent, her back to him, and says "With treatment in the morning and evening, you'll workable in a day or so, and back to full strength within by the end of the week."

She faltered for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, before finally adding "It took courage to face him like that. You did well." before exiting the tent.


Moranth Swashbuckler 1 [HP 12/12 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB + 2 | CMD:14 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+0 | Init:+3 | Per:+0 | Stealth +5 | Intimidate:+7 | Acrobatics: +8]

Ti'ck had been unsure when the old man had commanded her to come here but was begining to see the wisdom in it. she learnt much during the early days, perhaps the most important of which was of the comradery that the Malaz Army instilled in it's soldiers, a kinship that was so foreign to the elite legions of the Moranth. The way her fellow soldiers had bonded with Green Howl after his defeat put the army into a new perspective, where soldiers fought for their brothers instead of just for the empire. This realization rocked her heavily when she finally began to understand it, and began to compare it against her training and time spent with the Mornath. So much opportunity missed.

--------

Ti'ck maintained watch over Sloade with Shea but quickly realized that Shea's skill at healing someone back to health likely greatly outmatched her own. Determined to help in someway, to put into practice the life lessons she was learning, Ti'ck spent her freetime that first day searching the woods and camp for herbs and weeds.

Her confidence shaky she went to Shea that night with a recently brewed concoction, green liquid sloshing slightly in a wooden bowl, the smells of herbs and organic detritus. "This help Green Howl. Make better soon." She stated hopefully. "Apply to...." unsure of the word, Ti'ck motioned as if pressing down on something.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

The training was both new and familiar to Shea at the same time. These Malazan soldiers had an odd combination of the aloofness of her people, combined with a dependency on each other that went beyond what she was adjusted to. The at times loose, at times strict, form of their chain of command still confused her, and she was never sure when to be formal and when to relax a little.

Sloade, or Green Howl as he was called, was an interesting one, to be sure. He seemed to have a lot of dedication, but was still so wet behind the ears. She wondered what drove him to join a place such as this. Then again, she could ask herself the same question and probably not have a better answer in his eyes.

Ti’ck was an interesting one too. He… she… it never seemed to leave that armor, and Shea wondered what it was like to live in a shell like that. Even this chain had seemed restrictive at first. But that odd plate that Ti’ck wore barely seemed to slow them down.

Maybe it’s just a matter of training. After all, a full sword was once heavy and awkward in my hand. And in my dream I wore a set of heavy steel. Maybe this is a sign, blessed T’riss.

- - - - -

Shea looked at the shelled creature holding the bowl for a moment. Not in the eyes, just in its general direction, before taking the offered object. She looked at it a moment, taking in the scent of the green liquid.

It smells like the herbs from the healers tent. That stuff they applied to me that night.

She took a cloth and began to dab the mixture onto Sloade’s bruises and and welts. ”Bruises… more generally, injuries.”

There was quiet between the two of them for a moment, the quiet of two who are not sure what to say, or how to say it. ”Thank you.” Shea added, breaking the silence.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

After a few days of Shea and Ti'ck taking care of his bruises, Sloade looked almost back to normal. His bruises soon became a faded yellow and he only hurt when he moved in certain ways. Unfortunately for Sloade, moving those certain ways happened often under Dujek's training. When Dujek split them off into pairs, he tried to be paired up with Shea or Ti'ck. Sloade loved the dull CLANG the wooden weapons made when they hit Ti'ck's armor. Shea was a challenging opponent as she was quick. Not as fast as Whiskeyjack but Sloade wouldn't be surprised if someday she was.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

Zayne, I’m adding you to game, but I’m still waiting what motivated you to leave the island and join the army.

As the days passed, you eventually got to meet all the squad, which wasn’t big at all.

One day morning, you were all called to a meeting with all the squad.

Buckets of salt water had been sloshed across the cobbled centre aisle of the stables, which had the effect of damping the dust and sending the biting flies into a frenzy, as well as making doubly rank the stench of horse piss. Dujek, standing just within the doors, could already feel his sinuses stinging. His searching gaze found four figures seated on bound rolls of straw near the far end. Scowling, the sergeant shifted the weight of the pack on his shoulder, then headed over.

‘Who was the bright spark missing the old smells of home?’ he drawled as he approached.

The half-Seti warrior named Koryk grunted, then said, ‘That would be Lieutenant Ranal, who then had a quick excuse to leave us for a time.’ He’d found a flap of hide from somewhere and was cutting long strands from it with a thin-bladed pig-sticker. Dujek had seen his type before, obsessed with tying things down, or worse, tying things to their bodies. Not just fetishes, but loot, extra equipment, tufts of grass or leafy branches depending on the camouflage being sought. In this case, Dujek half expected to see twists of straw sprouting from the man.

For centuries the Seti had fought a protracted war with the city-states of Quon and Li Heng, defending the barely inhabitable lands that had been their traditional home. Hopelessly outnumbered and perpetually on the run, they had learned the art of hiding the hard way. But the Seti lands had been pacified for sixty years now; almost three generations had lived in that ambivalent, ambiguous border that was the edge of civilization. The various tribes had dissolved into a single, murky nation, with mixed-bloods coming to dominate the population. What had befallen them had been the impetus, in fact, for Coltaine’s rebellion and the Wickan Wars—for Coltaine had clearly seen that a similar fate awaited his own people.

It was not, Dujek had come to believe, a question of right and wrong. Some cultures were inward-looking. Others were aggressive. The former were rarely capable of mustering a defense against the latter, not without metamorphosing into some other thing, a thing twisted by the exigencies of desperation and violence. The original Seti had not even ridden horses. Yet now they were known as horse warriors, a taller, darker-skinned and more morose kind of Wickan.
Dujek knew little of Koryk’s personal history, but he felt he could guess. Half-bloods did not lead pleasant lives. That Koryk had chosen to emulate the old Seti ways, whilst joining the Malazan army as a marine rather than a horse warrior, spoke tomes of the clash in the man’s scarred soul.

Dujek, the sergeant, a man few years older than Whiskeyjack, of small stature, a clean face, and his hair cut in military style, using what appeared to be a standard marine garnet. A shortsword, a shield, a crossbow, the soap of his morning shave still clotting the hair in his ears, the smell of cinnamon water wafting after him, his grey eyes sharp and unyielding in his, lean face. He stood straight, which made him seem much taller than his five and a half feet, wearing simple, leather stained by sweat.

”As you are all aware, I’m sure, I’m your sergeant, and in some days we’ll be marching to Karashimesh to aid the Second in retaking the city." other than Green Howl, Ti’ck and Braven Truth, three other men and one young woman sat in silence, staring up at him.
Dujek sighed, and pointed to the nondescript soldier sitting to Ti’ck left. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

A bewildered look, then, ‘My real name, Sergeant, or the one the drill sergeant in gave me?’

By the man’s accent and his pale, stolid features, Dujek knew him as being from Li Heng. That being the case, his real name was probably a mouthful: nine, ten or even fifteen names all strung together. ‘Your new one, soldier.’

‘Tarr.’

The young woman spoke up. ‘If you’d seen him on the training ground, you’d understand. Once he’s planted his feet behind that shield of his, you could hit him with a battering ram and he won’t budge.’

Dujek studied Tarr’s placid, pallid eyes. ‘All right. You’re now Corporal Tarr—’

The woman, who’d been chewing on a straw, suddenly choked. Coughing, spitting out pieces of the straw, she glared up at Dujek with disbelief. ‘What? Him? He never says nothing, never does nothing unless he’s told, never—’

‘Glad to hear all that,’ Dujek cut in laconically. ‘The perfect corporal, especially that bit about not talking.’

The woman’s expression tightened, then unveiled a small sneer as she looked away in feigned disinterest.

‘And what is your name, soldier?’ Dujek asked her.

‘My real name—’ she started to say only to be interrupted once more.

‘I don’t care what you used to be called. None of you. Most of us get new ones and that’s just the way it is.’

‘I didn’t,’ Koryk growled.

‘Your name, lass?’

Sour contempt at the word lass.

‘Drill sergeant named her Smiles,’ Koryk said.

‘Smiles?’

‘Aye. She never does.’

Eyes narrowing, Dujek swung to another soldier, the one all covered in a strange shell-like armor. ‘And yours?’

Feel free to talk among yourself, and chat, this supposed to be a player to player role play. Zayne, you are the undescribed one, and the Drill sergeant named you Aloft.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

When Dujek mentioned that they soon would be marching to join the second in retaking some city, he swallowed hard. The defeat at Whiskeyjack’s hands still stung him mentally and physically and now that it was becoming a reality, he hoped he wouldn’t be the first to fall. He looked at Shea to gage her reaction to the news, then looked at Ti’ck, then wondered why. In all that armor it was hard to tell what Ti’ck was thinking! He then glanced at Aloft. Everyone seemed so calm as if Dujek had just announced that they were going to the evening meal. [/i]If they are terrified, they seem to be doing a good job of hiding it![/i] Sloade will sit there and try to look as dispassionately as everyone else but then he starts to sweat and his stomach knots up. Just remember your training and you will be all right. You are Green Howl and you are of the fifth squad or was it the forth? I must remember what squad I am, it will probably come in handy on the battlefield! When he thought the word ‘battlefield’, Sloade swallowed hard again.


Moranth Swashbuckler 1 [HP 12/12 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB + 2 | CMD:14 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+0 | Init:+3 | Per:+0 | Stealth +5 | Intimidate:+7 | Acrobatics: +8]

"Ti'ck" she responds with a slight hint of confrontation, eyes narrowing to match the sergeants behind her helm. It's just armor...


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

The man who hadn't yet drawn Dujek's attention sat stock still and hadn't moved through the whole show. You could swear he was either dead or sleeping. He didn't look like the other recruits, mainly from the lack of armor. He instead wore simple clothes. A pair of sandals, breeches, a cotton shirt, all bound together with sashes and bandages. His face was cast downward so you couldn't see his face but he had a mop of unruly brown hair. The way he sat suggested a tall frame, near 6 feet maybe with long lanky limbs of corded muscle. His weapon of choice seemed to be the quarterstaff he rested on, another oddity in this army, as well as two javelins on his back under the backpack and dagger in leg sheath on both legs.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

Ignoring Ti'ck attitude, he turn to the other recruits, he hadn't addressed before. 'And you folks?'


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

Edit: He is not sleeping while sitting. Instead is pulling and adjusting the leather armor as if uncomfortable in it. "Rafi," he says, not really paying attention as he fights to get at an itch. Eventually he reaches for his army issued shortsword, which is dull from lack of upkeep, to get at the itch on his back.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

I am Green Howl Sir! Sloade pipes up although the last time he piped up, he got a beating. Just don't ask him when you'll fight you fool!


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

‘Drill sergeant named Rafi Aloft, Sarge.’ Koryk intervened, after Rafi used his real name.

‘Who was your drill sergeant?’ Dujek demanded to the recruits.


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

I lost track in all the info dump on the first page. Isn't it Dujek, the guy yelling at us right now?


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

It was Braven Tooth, Sir! Sloade answers. It seems everyone here has a nickname, why doesn't Dujek? Sloade is about to ask the man why he didn't get a new name when he joined but decides better of it. Instead, he just stares at the man with a quizzical look.


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7
Storyteller: Fisher Kel Tath wrote:
‘Drill sergeant named Rafi Aloft, Sarge.’ Koryk intervened, after Rafi used his real name.

"Not my name. Didn't bother to remember," giving Tarr the equivalent of an annoyed look. He still looked rather bored.

Storyteller: Fisher Kel Tath wrote:

‘Who was your drill sergeant?’ Dujek demanded to the recruits.

Rafi points at the man who answered. He doesn't know his name nor really care. At this point, all he cares about is this stupid itch and getting out of this ridiculous armor the first chance he can get.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

‘Braven Tooth! That bastard’s still alive?’ Dujek asked.

‘It was hard to tell at times,’ Smiles muttered.

‘Until his temper snapped,’ Koryk added. ‘Just ask Corporal Tarr there. Braven Tooth spent near two bells pounding on him with a mace. Couldn’t get past the shield.’

Dujek was silent for a long moment. Braven Tooth—he was dumbfounded. The bastard was grizzled back when . . . when the whole naming thing began. It had been Braven who’d started it, then the sergeant turn to Aloft and says ’It does not matter if you liked it or not. What you were before you joined it’s over. Get used to it soldier.’

Dujek looked at his new corporal. ‘Where’d you learn that skill?’

The man shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Don’t like getting hit.’

‘Well, do you ever counter-attack?’

Tarr frowned. ‘Sure. When they’re tired.’

He shook his head, glanced sidelong at Tarr. ‘You should be a heavy infantryman, Corporal, with a talent like that. The marines are supposed to be fast, nimble—avoiding the toe-to-toe whenever possible or, if there’s no choice, making it quick.’

‘I’m good with a crossbow,’ Tarr said, shrugging.

‘And a fast loader,’ Koryk added. ‘It was that that made Braven decide to make him a marine.’
Smiles spoke. ‘So who named Braven Tooth, Sergeant?’

I did, after the bastard left one of his in my shoulder the night of the brawl. The brawl we all later denied happening. Gods, so many years ago, now . . . ‘I have no idea,’ he said turning to the only one that didn't said a word until now. 'And what's your name?' he asked Shea.


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

The man formerly known as Rafi rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance. Symbolic nonsense.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

She looks at Sergeant Dujek when he announces their plans for deployment, but her eyes are unfocused, her mind obviously elsewhere.

War... well, I was going to head that way eventually, wasn't I? I guess it was only a matter of time... can't run from destiny forever...

Her hands clenched tightly for a moment, but when she is brought back when called upon, replying "Braven Truth, Sir!"


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

Strangely enough, Dujek seems satisfied with Shea’s name.
”Listen up, everyone.” the man says calling everyone to attention. ”Orders are obeyed. You may not like it; it may hurt your beliefs. None of that matters. You were given an order, you obey it. With that said, you should tell me if you think that an order should be followed differently, based on your own experience and abilities, and don’t forget the person fighting besides you is your family now. We don’t abandon, we don’t leave anyone behind.”

He seems to be waiting for something as he adds ”Any question?”


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

Family. The word sent Rafi reeling back in time to memory he had hoped to forget. He was maybe seven and still given some free reign to wander around the nearby neighborhood. Back then he still had friends as well. Local children whose parents worked the shops or plied some trade in the city. His father would think they were beneath his station but at least he had fun with them. One day the fun turned to tragedy. They were playing in the street as they always did when a carriage came through way to fast. Too fast for one of his friends to get out of the way. They didn't even try to stop. He didn't make it.

When he got home that day he found the carriage outside the stables near their house. And the ones riding it were sitting at his family's table, talking and conversing in a jovial atmosphere. As if they hadn't just murdered someone that day. His world turned red as he cleared the table and lashed out the man his father was talking with. He only got one good punch before his father and the mans guard pinned him to the floor. He tried to explain what happened, what the man did, but his father wouldn't hear it. He forced Rafi to apologize and even pay recompense by tending to the horses for the duration of his stay.

Back in the now, he hangs his head. "Right. Cause family always has your back." It wasn't loud enough for Dujek to hear but most of the other recruits could. For the ones he had trained with the last few months, it was the most emotion they had ever heard from him ever. The words were so bitter it left a bad taste in their mouth. Rafi rolls backward off his seat. He plants his hands and twists in the air to land facing away from the others and walks away. It was a flashy move but it was the fastest way to get away. As his nickname would suggest, he goes off to find a high place to get away and watch the clouds.


Moranth Swashbuckler 1 [HP 12/12 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB + 2 | CMD:14 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+0 | Init:+3 | Per:+0 | Stealth +5 | Intimidate:+7 | Acrobatics: +8]

"Family? but, I was not born to any of these people. Sir." Ti'ck asks confused. "Why family? Understand, We squad, look after rest of squad. But not why family. Sir." Ti'ck adds, trying vainly to elaborate her point.

As my point of addition to this continuing history, I'm going under the assumption that a Moranth's caste is defined at birth. i.e. That standard family units just don't exist within the Moranth. So Ti'ck's idea of family would be a literal textbook interpretation as a mother, father, and their blood children.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

The word family made Sloade think back to his family on the farm. He wondered if he would ever see them again but knew it was time for him to become a man and this is something he must do.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

The segeant don’t say anything, as Rafi flashily leaves the room without being dismissed. To Ti’ck question he shakes his head and says ’You’ll soon understand. Dismissed.’ he says getting up and preparing to leave the place, but then he turn and call out for his corporal. ’Tarr, walk with me.’

The corporal shoots a last glance to the squad, before following Dujek and leaving the others.

Dujek hadn’t even disappeared from view when Koryk said ’What you think about this whole thing?’

’ ‘Bout what? We fight, we kill or we die. Is there more to it?’ answer Smiles.

Koryk send daggers through his eyes at Smiles, but turns to the others, waiting their opinion.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea closes her eyes and replies "It looks like we have a job to do. I suggest we prepare ourselves for it." before turning and walking back to her tent.

Best be prepared for it indeed... Well, I guess I'm spending the next few days in training...


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

What do I think? Since he's been here, no one has ever asked Sloade what he thought. Thinking back, throughout his life no one ever asked him what he thought. Er..Remember our training, Sir! It was something that Sloade had heard a lot since he joined. "Remember your training", "Remember your Training". He knew as soon as he said it, it was a horrible response but it was the only thing that popped into his head. He liked Shea's answer better. She always seemed to know what to say and do, her and Ti'ck. If they didn't they seemed to be hiding it well. Sloade hadn't formed an opinion yet on the others except that Smiles always made him feel down and he was trying to still gauge Rafi. He admired the cockiness Rafi seemed to exude. Maybe after battle Sloade will feel more sure of himself - if he remembers his training.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

@Sloade
Smiles roll her eyes as Sloade answer making a disgusting face. Hood’s breath, is he that dumb?

Koryk laughs loud and long before finally saying ’Yes, yes, training indeed!’ struggling to keep a face he asks ’How is to fight Wiskeyjack?’

And before you answer Smiles adds 'If you can call that beating a fight.'

@Ti’ck

Not bothering to give the big one her attention, Smiles turns to the other one, the one covered from hair to toes in armor. Am I the only sane person in this squad?
’Where you find that stuff?’ she asks openly indicating the armor.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

@Shea

The walk back to the tent it’s the same, and yet it feels differently. Family? The only one you could thing, your brother, and that didn’t make you happy.
Still, in some days you would march, to war, and to a future unknown.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

@Rafi

The look the sergeant shoot in your direction, just before you left, made you understand things weren’t finished yet. What it meant? You are not sure.
Talking about family never did any good, family ties only served to make you weaker, to create something other could exploit.
Walking amongst the soldiers, you could not understand how someone could call this family. There’s no one, except tugs, rejects, cast offs and unlucky.
A pack of unfortunate individuals, gathered by a same goal: To kill and to die.
This was no family.


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

Sloade gives Smiles a sharp look, then looks back to Koryk. It was..uh...a learning experience, Sir! I'll do better in my next fight, or I won't be around to do anything! Green Howl thinks to himself.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea arrives back at the tent, more than a little lost in thought and long avoided memories.

Ok, time to prepare... got to make sure I'm ready for this.

Seeking to distract herself, she drops to the ground, taking pushup position in full gear, and doesn't stop until her arms give out.

- - - - -

In the time before their deployment Shea spends her days in intense physical training, and her nights in prayer. More than once she falls asleep kneeling on the floor next to her cot.

Feel free to interject for RP, if desired.

- - - - -

The battle rages all around, the sound of steel on steel deafening, the smell of sweat and blood hanging thickly over the city. The enemies seem endless, and in the chaos of it all strategy has been lost as mass combat spreads across the field. Slowly, Shea and her squad make progress, inching their way towards the central keep.

But she is growing tired. Her spear feels heavy in her hands, the wood slick with sweat and ichor. She knows her movements have slowed, her body struggling to keep up with her will.

She shuffles past the body of a fellow soldier, slumped back against a wall, the female warrior's skull split open. 'There is so much more to do... and so much blood and death already...' she mutters under her breath as she pauses to catch her breath. The torn face of the soldier looks familiar to her, and she leans in to examine it closer.

Suddenly, the head lifts and Shea finds her own face staring back at her, the eyes dead and lifeless, the jaw hanging loosely as a fresh trickle of thick blood runs down its chin and neck.

Shea stumbles back and trips, falling back against a wall, raising her head just in time to see an enemy soldier charging her, his sword held high.

Shea awakens with a gasp, sweat dripping from her face. She quickly makes the sign of T'riss as she gasps for breath, quietly muttering to herself "The same dream... night after night... but what does it signify?"

Calming down, she drags herself into her cot, her body aching and feeling feverish. "I guess I'll find out soon enough... We march tomorrow..."


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

Over the next few days Rafi, or Aloft, turns even more inward. When he first arrived he was a model soldier. He did the drills, stayed quiet, and got along with his squad as best he could. But after a few short weeks it became obvious he didn't want to be here. He would disappear from time to time, only to be found in some odd place starring at the clouds. He didn't talk, didn't follow orders. He just went through the motions.

Yet even as he skipped training he still remained one of the better fighters. Well his record was abysmal but it took his opponent a while to land a blow. He danced around most opponents, leading them around the ring and batting clumsy swings aside. He was definitely gifted. But he never went on the offensive himself. Which made fights between him and Tarr excruciating. Both were defensive types so they would last hours sometimes. Tarr would wait for them to tire after pounding on his shield while Rafi merely outlasted them by leading them around the ring. Their fights were the only he showed some initiative though. Every now and then he would try to pull some crazy maneuver to get over or around Tarr. Sometimes they worked. Most times they didn't. But after each fight he would go back to his usual morose attitude, like he regretted even participating.

It was only when one got up early enough that they saw his true skill. Even before the normal wake-up call, Rafi would find a secluded spot to practice. No armor and no weapons beyond a simple wooden staff. The steps he showed in spars couldn't compare to the dance he could do with the quarterstaff. Sometimes he seemed to glad across the ground while other times he seemed as ridged as a stone. And whatever shadow he was using to fight against was a warrior of great skill because Rafi would stop mid-fight and try and redo an attack or guard, faster than before.

So two things were very obvious about Aloft. He didn't want to be in the army but he was damn good at fighting.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

CHAPTER ONE

‘An army that waits is soon an army at war with itself.’
-Kellanved


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

The breaths of the horses plumed in the chill morning air. Dawn had but just arrived, the air hinting nothing of the heat the coming day would deliver. Wrapped in the furs of a bhederin, old sweat making the lining of his helm clammy as the touch of a corpse, Fist Gamet sat motionless on his Wickan mount, his gaze fixed on Ubaryd walls.

Fist Gamet and his personal retinue, had ridden out from the city before dawn. Outside the gates to the west, the army had begun to stir. The march would begin this day. The journey northeast, to Karashimesh, to the Holy Falah'd. To Justice.

--

Dujek cleared the dust from his throat and spat onto the side of the track. Their pace was torturously slow, the three squads trailing the wagon loaded down with their supplies. ‘What’s your point?’ he asked the sergeant beside him. ‘A soldier knows but one truth, and that truth is, without faith, you are already as good as dead. Faith in the soldier at your side. But even more important—and no matter how delusional it is in truth—there is the faith that you cannot be killed. Those two and those two alone— they are the legs holding up every army.’

The amber-skinned man grunted, then waved at the nearest of the trees lining Ubaryd Way. ‘Look there and tell me what you see—no, not those Hood-damned fetishes—but what’s still visible under all that mess. The spike holes, the dark stains of bile and blood. Ask the ghost of the soldier who was on that tree—ask that soldier about faith.’

‘A faith betrayed does not destroy the notion of faith itself,’ Dujek retorted. ‘In fact, it does the very opposite—’

‘Maybe for you, but there are some things you can’t step around with words and lofty ideals, Dujek. And that comes down to who is in that vanguard somewhere up ahead'.

Dujek glanced over at the other sergeant. Green Howl, Aloft, Braven Truth and Ti’ck were walking in step behind the two sergeants, close enough to hear, though none had ventured a comment or opinion. ’What you think?’ he asked the soldiers, for their opinion.

The Ubaryd Way marched past on both sides. Transformed into a vast, open-air temple, each tree cluttered with fetishes, cloths braided into chains, figures painted on the rough bark to approximate the soldiers who had once writhed there on spikes driven in by the rebelion’s warriors. Most of the soldiers ahead and behind Dujek walked in silence. Despite the vast, empty expanse of blue sky overhead, the road was oppressive.


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

"Like he said, we're dead men. What does it matter what we think." As always there is little sign of emotion in the response.


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea had been conditioned for marching in her youth but had never really experienced it. It seemed painfully slow, at least compared to her own travels with Graham. Though she wasn't sure if it was truly the pace or simply the company.

She listens with interest to the sergeants in front of her, not expecting such philosophy from the two of them. Though, in hindsight, it does seem like an appropriate time for it. Rafi's responses causes her to ruffle her nose.

What is his problem? Why the attitude?

She raises her voice in response "You're not arguing against each other, merely representing two halves of the same whole." Motioning to Dujek, she says "You're correct that faith is all we have, and that without it all effort is doomed to despair." Motioning to the other "And you are correct that faithful inaction is just as useless as faithless inaction."

She then continues "But you need both action and faith. One without the other is doomed to failure."

She closes her eyes for a moment and makes a sign about her forehead, softly saying "To accomplish great things one must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe."


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

Sloade's feet ached. He was glad they had stopped for he did not think he could take one more step. His mouth was dry from breathing in the dirt stirred up by the wagon they were following. His throat felt raw each time he swallowed more and more dust. He hardly realized that Dujek had asked a question. He heard Rafi's succinct answer and Shea's more elaborate one and knew this was his chance to say something thoughtful. They were asking about faith. What did he know of faith? He bit his lower lip and tasted the grime. A soldier always has faith. Either faith that they will die or faith that they won't. It all depends on which one of those faiths you have. Maybe that answer sounded thoughtful; maybe it didn't. Sloade just wanted water and a chance to rest his aching feet which kept his mind off of answering his own question-Which faith did he have? Live or Die?


Lifewalker 1 | HP 9/9 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+2 | CMD:19 | Fort:+3 | Ref:+5 | Will:+3 | Init:+3 | Per:+7

Philosophy about faith in the army? Hilarious. Five years of this is going to be tougher than I thought. Just do what they say and stay alive. Then you're free. Maybe I can find something to do besides hit things without father looking over my shoulder.


[Tactical Map] [Seven Cities]

The amber skinned man spat on the road before saying to Shea ’Queen of dreams? This ain’t what a soldier should pray to. Fener, to boar of summer, lord of battles should be what you be praying, if that’s what you want.’

Dujek consider Sloade words before saying ’I hope you have the 'won’t' one soldier, and why are you stopping? The day's march isn't over.’


Female Holy Lancer 1 [HP 10/10 | AC:17 | T:14 | FF:13 | CMB:+3 | CMD:16 | Fort:+1 | Ref:+5 | Will:+4 | Init:+8 | Per:+6 | Stealth: +1 | Sense Motive:+2 | Intimidate:+4 | Acrobatics: +5]

Shea nods at the amber skinned man and replies "I think you underestimate the Lady's domain. Are you not in this battle because of the dreams of many men, both your commander's and yourself? Is your foe not here because of his own dreams, as well as his superior's? When you awoke this morning, whose realm did you leave, either rested or tired? Should you live, whose domain will guide your future?"

Smiling, she adds "Go ahead, pray to the Lord of Battles. But there is much more that determines the outcome of a battle than just the brief moments of the battle itself. The Queen of Dreams has led me to train myself to prepare for this, to make myself strong. You're asking for the Battle Lord to save you should you not be able to save yourself, which you just argued was the position of the fool."

Realizing that maybe she had slipped into being just a little too informal, too much like the monks back at the monastery, she removes the grin from her face and adds a "... Sir ..."


Male Human Fighter 1 (HP 13/13 AC:15 T:11 F:14 Saves F:+6 R:+1 W:+1 CMB:+4 CMD:15 Init:+1 Perc: +2)

What? He can't be serious? More marching? No problems here, Sir! I can keep marching as long as you want us to, Sir! If my feet don't fall off first, Sir!

51 to 100 of 225 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | next > last >>
Community / Forums / Online Campaigns / Play-by-Post / Gardens of the Moon All Messageboards

Want to post a reply? Sign in.