|
Post by Beowuuf on Mar 27, 2010 22:48:26 GMT -5
Some wolf cubs learned late that the game of chase had a purpose. They would be able to stealthily creep up on or outrun their fellows, but they lost focus when they won their game of tag.
If those cubs were lucky, they would realise that the natural inclination to hunt and leap should lead to a kill. Hunger was a terrible thing, as was leaving an enemy alive.
For Cloe, the crushing pressure on her legs and pressure on her neck might have spoken otherwise, but she no longer felt the centre of attention for her unseen assailant. The thing was quiet, and powerful, but had apparently never learned the first lesson of survival. Never leave an enemy alive.
Still, for now the thing had her effectively helpless. The way it was distributing its pressure felt wrong, Cloe could not work out a centre of gravity to upset. And getting a sense of her enemy was difficult when all she could smell was the scent of the earth and grass her snout was being pushed into.
Actually, that wasn't true... her nose could catch the scent of the male wolf creature coming closer. The tiny movements of the thing that had taken her were slowing - as if it were adjusting its breathing. The pressure increased as if the thing were ensuring she could not move. As if it were tensing, readying itself...
* * *
Beowuuf tried to move quietly, although he could see no reason to. The scent of the wolf creature he had detected was close. It had taken a great amount of mental gymnastics to coax Sorba's memories to realise what the smell was. And Beowuuf had then assumed he was going mad.
Another wolf creature in Sommerlund? Was it possible? Well, of course it was. However, it was also another of those strange co-incidences that Beowuuf had begun to distrust in his life. He felt as if fate itself were stalking him, weaving a strange tapestry for some unknown purpose around the Vakeros, a tapestry that was like a net. And worse yet, Beowuuf felt as if - somehow - it would ultimately have nothing to do with him. He were nothing more than an imperfection caught in the weave.
Sorba's mind was still too disruptive to directly communicate with, though that in itself was information enough. Beowuuf felt ill at ease that any wolf creature had a benign purpose, especially one that would stalk a fellow wolf creature. Sorba still had enemies, possibly alive. Beowuuf assumed, by Sorba's disrupted mind, that the wolf felt one finally found a way to track him through Beowuuf's high profile return to Holmgard.
Never leave an enemy alive. It was a rule Sorba had learned, and then ignored once he understood it. A dead enemy was nothing. True, not a detriment anymore, but also not a benefit. It was rare - especially in the wolf community - to find someone who actually cared about you. Why limit yourself to those who wished you well? An enemy cared just as much whether you lived or died as a friend, only the side of the question they fell upon changed. When you had that kind of 'in' to another's psyche, when you had such a powerful lever to use, why not exploit it?
Beowuuf had felt this thought process as a smug single jolt when he had pressed down Sorba's consciousness earlier. Beowuuf had the answer to that question - if you played with fire, one way or the other you were going to get burned.
Beowuuf realised his attempts at stealth were futile and stupid. If a true wolf creature, with its senses and instincts and abilities, wanted to take out Beowuuf he had no real chance. Without Sorba to help him, Beowuuf was still a cub himself. No, Beowuuf needed to turn this fight back to one he could understand - something that was out in the open, warrior to warrior.
"I know you are here, I can smell exactly where you are!" yelled Beowuuf, lying. He took out a small bluevein dagger, and started cleaning dirt from under his nails. It meant he had an augment to his Vakeros powers to hand, and more importantly it gave him an excuse to not look around everwhere, and reveal he had no clue where the attack could come from. He kept his ears focused for the smallest sounds, rocking left and right as if bored. "I'll wait, don't worry!" he called out, off the cuff.
The world held its breath. There was definitely something here, for there was no bird sound. Worse yet, the air felt oppressive. Beowuuf tried to concentrate on everything that was around, waiting for the smallest of motions to unleash a power word on. However, he found he was distracted and focusing on the act of cleaning his nails itself. Slowly going from the left side of his left most nail, firm ordered strokes to ensure no particles were left.
It was an odd distraction, and Beowuuf tried to shake himself from it. The bluevien dagger in his hand should have been focusing him on danger, not on the minutiae of cleanliness. While not this particular dagger, he had taken a twin of it from a dead soldier - one that had died infront of Beowuuf while Beowuuf had been a commander. The bluevein dagger should have been a reminder of the delicate balance of life and death for a soldier. One moment you were here, the next moment you were gone, leaving nothing but a debt of obligation to the one who led you.
The rustle caught Beowuuf's mind by surprise, but luckily the wolfish body turned perfectly to the spot. Beowuuf's mind snapped out of its trance, and with a yell he let loose a power word of force. A small rabbit was catapulted across the ground with a small, sad noise.
Beowuuf blinked for a moment, and then despite the inappropriateness of it, had to smile.
He didn't feel as the chaos creature barreled into his back, snapping his spine. Even if that had registered, the creature's powerful arms wrapped around Beowuuf's neck, snapping that a second later.
* * *
Cloe was free to move a moment before as the creature had leapt from her, but barely had time to comprehend the situation before the twisted creature threw something at her that almost hit her.
Cloe saw that the thing that had attacked her was not of this world. It was a twisted mess of mis-matched skins and limbs, sinewy muscle visible and flexing.
And this creature, apparently, was no unfocused beast. It knew exactly when to kill an enemy, and exactly when to leave one alive. What leverage was it looking for?
Cloe then looked down, and saw the lifeless eyes of her fellow wolf creature looking back up at her. Cloe had barely been in the world a few hours, and it had already found a way to slap her in the face, remind her how alone she was.
What did the world want from her?
|
|
|
Post by Doomy on Mar 28, 2010 4:04:30 GMT -5
Though confused by his senior’s claim that he was merely along for the ride, so to speak, Doomy let it pass for the time being. There would be time for further chat later, but the current priority was their mission. A few shouted orders from the young officer saw the troops shuffle into marching formation, with Doomy and Bon-Al at the head of their column. As they left the courtyard, footsteps echoing off the walls of that enclosed areas, they merged with a handful of artillerists and their devastating field guns, towed in wagons drawn by the few beasts of burden employed by the Borese. With perfect discipline the dwarven force set out on their journey, their considerable natural stamina allowing them to sustain a relentless, automaton-like pace for hours on end. The two-day journey was a strange one. Initially, Sommerlund was as it has almost always been - lush and green. Were it not for the slight hint of yellow in some of the trees, one could be forgiven for thinking the land still under the influence of the Moonstone, which had locked the realm in a perpetual summer until the Kai had returned that fabled artifact to the Shianti. However this impression of vibrancy faded as the dwarven force approached Esnhar. As the dwarves advanced for the next few hours, they noticed more obvious signs that something was terribly wrong. The vegetation they passed gradually appeared less healthy, and eventually they saw trees and shrubs that were twisted and blackened with disease. The wildlife too - the ever-present birdsong, usually heard almost anywhere in fertile Sommerlund, was abruptly noticed to have ceased when the company came within a day of Eshnar itself. Even the air seemed thicker somehow, with a slight but growing suggestion of sulphur, ozone and something unidentifiable but sickly-sweet in the air. Doughty though they were, the Borese warriors were greatly perturbed by these phenomena, and tempers were swift to flare. There were a couple of occasions when dwarves quarrelled and had to be prevented from coming to blows over trivialities. Eventually the dwarves came close enough to their destination to see the landscape around Eshnar. For miles around the town the terrain had been turned into a scene of bizarre devastation. Instead of natural flora and fauna everything had been turned to a plain of glassy, black rock.
|
|
Sahmas
New Member
Vakeros
Posts: 4
|
Post by Sahmas on Mar 28, 2010 5:10:34 GMT -5
Sahmas did not know what he had expected, but this was not it.
A Vakeros of the Valos college, Sahmas had spend his formative years in Vassgonia informally training himself in as many techniques of the Vakeros as the houseguard would teach him. As many as he could sneak under the radar of his mother.
His grandfather had understood, a powerful if retired Vakeros himself, and Sahmas was sure it was only an old letter from that man which had allowed Sahmas as a young man to later gain entry to the college. Well, that, and the fact that Dessi currently needed every warrior they could get.
Sahmas had been so very driven to prove himself as capable of learning and using the Vakeros techniques as his fellows, despite his late formal start. To prove to be the best had, somehow, become his focus. He had not thought about what would happen afterwards.
Sahmas had not thought to imagine where he would end up, but it was not here.
Drummmed into every new Vakeros in recent times was the fact that the Vakeros were now less in number. Dessi had, potentially, never been in as much danger. Every knight of the Cobalt Order counted. Every life precious. Every single one of them had to focus, every day, and make each one of their actions count. There could be no weak link now, there were too few links in the chain.
Sahmas had taken his duties very seriously. When a combined force of Dessi, Sommlending and Durenese warriors had 'disappeared' in terms of communications, Sahmas had been eager to find them. Any threat to Dessi, and any threat to his fellow Vakeros, was so anathema to his mental wellbeing he could not step aside from the duty.
Sadly, his father had not seen it quite like that. Then again, Sahmas's relationship to his father was...complicated. For one, Sahmas's mother had been part of the Vassgonian diplomatic envoy, and Sahmas's father had already left to become a knight himself before Sahmas's mother had been aware of her condition.
Vassgonia had become a contentious area, and being in the Dessi diplomatic house dangerous. It was not a realm a father could simply flit to during any leave as he saw fit. Sahmas had therefore been many years grown up before he had even met the mysterious Tamas her mother would occasionally mention.
By the time Sahmas was fully grown, his father had apparently died - disappeared on a mission into the darklands. Sahmas had missed the chance to say goodbye then, because at the time his mother, himself and a few loyal houseguards were fleeing Vassgonia after relationships with Vassgonai had soured, at that point irrevocably.
Sahmas and his family had returned, despite rumours of their death, to Dessi. It had cost many good Dessi lives - including Sahmas's grandfather. And then Sahmas's father Tamas had returned too. However, in Tamas's case, the consequences for return were more personal. The man had only been able to save his essense by joining with a strange wolfish beast creature.
It had been an odd loss for Sahmas to have his relationship suddenly strained that way just when it should have finally been straightforward. And yet - if he were truthful to himself - it was also a blessing. There was a reason to feel estrangement now, there was something very obvious to try and bridge past that allowed the real estrangement to be slowly corrected without thought.
Of course, a wolf creature finds less obvious ways of being of use to his country, and Sahmas's father had ended up in Sommerlund. And had been one of a handful to discover that something was very wrong here, in Eshnar.
Sahmas had welcomed the chance to finally serve with his father while serving his country. And then his father had betrayed him, tried to have him sent away. Sahmas had not spoken to the man - well, wolf - since then, and had used every connection he could to be re-assigned back to the mission.
Sahmas had not understood at the time, but now he did.
Sahmas had not known what to expect, but somehow thought they would find the signs of battle, see at worst a unit of strong Sommlending, Durenese and fellow Dessi pinned down, grateful for the final relief of the army, whatever plaugued them breaking.
There was nothing here. Sahmas felt a pit in his stomach for how many Vakeros and other citizens of Dessi had, potentially, been lost.
Sahmas had never really though to being in an army, his training a thing in itself. Only his loyalty and drive had really seen him put himself forward for it. He had not thought this anything more than an extention of training, like a drill and march - showing the flag and discovering the truth.
He had not thought to be placed in personal danger. He had not thought to be in a blasted land that cried out from the evil it had been inflicted with. This was, after all, Sommerlund, that had endured through countless clashes with the Darklords and various servants of Naar.
Sahmas never imagined being in the heart of enemy territory, surrounding by death.
Sahmas realised his father had, of course, done all this. His father had fought in campaigns in Vassgonia. His father had seen the terrible plague that had dessimated the Vakeros first hand in battle. His father had been to the darklands, and seen the true emptiness of there.
His father had not wanted these experiences for his son. And Sahmas felt ashamed that he had not respected that. And more, he felt ashamed that his defiance had not been to prove his understanding and his willingness to do his duty anyway.
Sahmas had tried to prove his adulthood, instead of simply being an adult. Sahmas had not understood his own motivations at the time, but now he did.
Sahmas felt cold fear as the army started to group together. As border rangers started to report in with more frequency. As higher and higher commanders of various factions started to come together and debate vigourously on the next course of action.
Something very wrong, and very bad was happening, and Sahmas had to dig deep to find reserves of courage. However, he would not let his fellow Vakeros down - it was not in his make-up to. And he would prove to his father that he did understand now, and would make the man - well wolf - proud.
Of course, as more and more rangers reported in, Sahmas began to feel a disquiet. Surely a wolf creature reporting in should cause a stir in the Dessi ranks. With greater and great fear, Sahmas started to listen to every spoken word and discussion awaiting that sign of return.
|
|
|
Post by zipp on Mar 29, 2010 20:36:59 GMT -5
Wildlands
Some return. Was this what the gods had planned? To give her a taste of life and then take it away again? Cloe hated feeling so helpless. She vaguely remembered a time when she would've reacted instantaneously to the threat in front of her, taking on the game of life and death and, maybe, winning. But just now, all she felt was tired and a little disappointed. The creature in front of her was not something she could beat. It wasn't even like anything she had seen before. It was something out of a nightmare so dark that even the dreamer wouldn't recall it.
Nothing about the creature worked. It was all wrong. As a whole it was almost like something mammalian, though grotesquely blown out of proportion into a hulking beast. Then, as you tried to look at individual parts, you realized that nothing fit together. Here was a jaw that, on one side, was jutted and fanged like a Giak. But try to follow that jawline and suddenly you were staring at the lipless hole of a snake's mouth. The two didn't flow into one another, they just became each other. One of the arms did this multiple times so that amphibian structure was mixed with reptilian was mixed with aviary was mixed with what looked like mineral. It didn't make any sort of sense, not physically or structurally, and it made her head swim just to see it.
She was slightly annoyed, too. The creature wasn't attacking her. When it had caught up to her in the grass, she should've died, but instead it had disappeared to attack the other Wolf Creature. Now that it was back, she should again be dead, but it didn't attack. It simply stared at her with several animal's eyes, as if judging her reaction to the dead Wolf Creature it had left her with. Cloe growled suddenly. She did not want to be played with. She pushed the broken body of the Wolf Creature off of her, not sparing it a second glance. If there was one thing she had learned in her last life it was not to be sentimental about death. It served no purpose. She was surprised, actually, at how emotional she felt about the Wolf's demise. She hadn't even known him, but she had an odd wishing that she had, as if maybe he would've held the answers to her plight. Or maybe he could've at least told her what questions to ask. She buried these emotions in a dark place deep inside of her and glared back at the monstrous form in front of her. She may not be able to kill it, but she wouldn't let it play with her.
"Damn you," she growled, brandishing her claws. "Come at me!"
To her surprise, the creature snuffled at her and then moved away, turning its back on her and making its way back through the grass up the hill, the direction Cloe had come in. Confused, Cloe watched it go and then turned and began to head towards the West.
The blow made her head ring and lifted her up off her feet, dropping her into the grass before she could even realize what had happened. Seconds later (too slow, she thought) she was back on her feet, ready to kill or be killed. The creature was back, sure enough, but again it wasn't attacking. It growled at her and once again turned its back and began to walk away.
"Not this time, you ugly whore," Cloe said, the curse feeling good as it rolled off her tongue. She ran at the creature's exposed back, fully intending to sink her claws and fangs into its hunched spine. In an instant, it had spun around, it's hideously long arms flailing towards her like whips. The blow was merely a cuff, yet again she was knocked off her feet and sent spinning to the ground. This time the creature was over her before she could rise. It lowered its half-fanged jaw and Cloe prepared to scream. But the bite never came. Instead it began to push her with its snout, rolling her down the hill. After a few feet of this treatment, the creature stood up again and turned away once more.
Cloe lay on the ground, unable to rise for the laughter that was shaking her body, though few would've called the sad, choking, sound that escaped her lips a form of mirth. She finally understood what was going on. She wasn't being played with. She was being told, quite clearly, what was expected of her. The answers she had looked for, the reasons she was back... the Wolf Creature hadn't had them. They were being spoon-fed to her by this monstrous thing. This was her angel, her herald, her guide. It was pointing her in the direction it wanted her to go.
Finally, she regained control of herself and stood up, looking off in the distance to where the beast was still shuffling away. Then she pointed herself down the hill, the direction the Wolf Creature had been going, and began to walk North, wondering with a slight shiver, just which of the gods had brought her back.
|
|
|
Post by Simey on Apr 2, 2010 17:54:36 GMT -5
For the first time in a long time, Simey felt sane.
Less than two years ago he had had his first vision, hallucination, whatever it could be called: a Durenese outpost's watch-captain taking bribes from Ragadorn thugs. In private it had left him something of a wreck for several weeks, though he had done his best not to let his inner troubles show outwardly. Priat had noticed that something was wrong, but Simey had been unable to confide even in him, so afeared was he of what his friend might think. He had, in fact, deliberately manoeuvred himself into a posting away from Priat as soon as possible, so as too avoid his friend's discerning concern. As months had passed without anything similar having happened, however, Simey had begun to allow himself to half-believe that it must have been an extraordinarily vivid dream.
Then it had happened again. Having been forced into working with a Sommlending knight called Armadalus, and whilst traipsing across Cloeasia on the man's futile hunt for some sort of beast creature, Simey had imagined witnessing the very same knight actually encountering a beast creature, when the Sommlending had in fact simply been sitting by camp fire, explaining what had set him on the path he was following.
Simey had gone on to so completely lose his memory of time spent in the devastated Sommlending city of Eshnar that he didn't believe that he had ever been there. And then a helghast had seemed to pull from his mind the information that a Darklord known as Xog had reappeared on Magnamund. Upon reluctantly relating this apparently dire turn of events to the inaugural meeting of the Magnamund Knights' Council in Holmgard, he had suddenly had much of his memory of events within Eshnar restored, and within what he recalled were realisations of two further hallucinations: Armadalus being stabbed by a crazy old man and the Darklord Xog obliterating his way through the ruined city.
After all that, and the added chilling discovery that Armadalus seemed to know something about what was happening to him, Simey's preparations for the journey to southern Sommerlund had been conducted in a haze of self-doubt and spiralling conviction that he was losing his mind. And his trek as part of the scouting army - during which he had avoided any more interaction with others than was strictly necessary - had been dominated by a growing certainty that he would find the outskirts of Eshnar just as he had left them, and that all that he said in front of hundreds of his brothers in arms would be exposed as the delirious rantings of a crazy man who needed immediately to be removed from his knightly order.
But now, looking out over the blasted landscape that surrounded what used to be the city of Eshnar, Simey felt a bizarre, incongruous relief mixed in with the horror that was surely what everyone else standing in witness was feeling; something terrible had happened here, and though it was impossible to tell exactly what, it seemed much more likely than he ever could have believed that the helghast, and his own recently returned memories, had been right. For what else but a Darklord could have done this?
For the first time in a long time, Simey felt terribly, devastatingly sane.
|
|
Sahmas
New Member
Vakeros
Posts: 4
|
Post by Sahmas on Apr 4, 2010 5:22:53 GMT -5
Sahmas was not used to army discipline, but he did not imagine it should be like this. It had taken him some time to realise that the chaos he had seen was not part of military life. He had assumed at first that once they had contact with the area, the confusion and chaos was just how things happened. Especially since there were three groups under the Council, a force of dwarfs standing with them as a fourth main group, and then there were various minor parties representing other interested Sommlending factions - some Border Rangers, and the rare Kai Lord or Brotherhood mage seen in the mix.
However, as Sahmas began to take more and more note, while listening for news of Beowuuf, he begun to realise that the chaos was too chaotic. Men and groups seemed to wandering around distracted, instead of following the orders correctly. And even when they did follow the orders, the orders themselves began to become contradictory.
Even Sahmas found his attention wandering at times, though that was natural given the circumstances. Sadly, the very thing he wished distraction from kept pulling his attention back.
And then, if possible, it got worse. It was as if everyone had then decided to pull themselves together, but then had gone too far in the opposing direction. Squads were incapacitated as their leaders resoluted awaited orders instead of working to their own initiative. Upper chains of command - or at least meetings Sahmas could get close to in the confusion - seemed to be mired in the minutiae of regulations, or having dragged out arguments about the best way forward. Commanders seemed unwilling to move forward now, wishing to gather all the infomation logically, and find a definite conclusion as to what happened here before even attempting a plan.
Worse yet, the intolerance buried deep in the factions was starting to show. Sahmas overheard some derisory comments about the organisation of the Dessi from two Sommlending Border Rangers that passed by. It gave Sahmas pause about asking after the wolf creature and Vakeros that had been aiding them, and he missed the opportunity. And he heard comments about the organisational skills and general abilities of the Sommlending and the Duranese from his fellow Vakeros.
Sahmas found himself succumbing to both, wishing to point out a fine detail of rule someone had got wrong, and wising to share his sentiments on his fellow soldiers wth other soldiers.
Once again though, Sahmas had an unwelcome pull away from this pleasant distraction. His hand reached into his pocket instead, and he pulled out a piece of bluesteel he had worked smooth one day in the foundary. "Today is a blue stone day," he reminded himself, rubbing it absentmindedly. However, the unreality of the situation was starting ot get to Sahmas. He found himself concentrating on the imperceptible lines of the stone, trying to direct reflected light along them one by one. However, it did not matter, and his concentration kept breaking. In this unreal atmosphere, anything could be real. Anything could happen. Anything could have happened.
"Wolf creature! The wolf creature's come back!"
Sahmas had not realised there was such a tight knot in the pit of his stomach until it unravelled itself. For a moment he felt lightheaded, and then breathed out. The world was not quite such a frightening place anymore. Without thought, he started moving towards where the comments said the creature was returning.
"Halt! Where are you going, soldier?" came a call from a captain - no, from his captain. Of all the times to be challenged, it had to be now?
"Under orders, sir," said Sahmas quickly, not expecting it to work.
However, his captain seemed surprised to receive such a swift answer. After a moment of careful thought, the captain nodded.
"Orders are important. Carry on." The captain gave a crisp Vakeros salute, which Sahmas returned. Sahmas was slightly surprised, so the salute was not as crisp in return. The captain turned around irritated.
Sahmas took his chance to move swiftly, avoiding other blocks of soldiers. He soon noted that for some reason the wolf creature was returning to the Durenese section.
"Hold, Vakeros!" said a voice to Sahmas's side. It was another Vakeros ranking officer.
"I'm under orders to go to the wolf, sir!" said Sahmas, whipping off a salute and turning to go.
"Sahmas Ordalo, hold!" said the officer. Sahmas froze, and turned on the spot with shock.
"I make it my business to know the general orders of everyone under my command, and especially the names of new Vakeros that join under me. You are Sahmas Ordalo, of the Valos college, assigned to the second division."
Sahmas looked blankly at the officer.
"My name," said the officer with a sigh, "is Commander Cera. Can I suggest you adopt my philosophy in reverse and know your chain of command."
"I...I know the wolf, sir!" said Sahmas, simply.
"I'm sure you do, many do and would love the chance to gawp at him up close afetr his performance at the Council Halls."
"No, sir, I mean I know him. His name is Beowuuf, although it is really Tamas. And he is a Vakeros, even though he doens't look like one. And he was assigned to the Border Rangers for this mission. And..."
"Yes, yes, very well, you have done your research. And I have need of a runner I am sure, since the blasted creature seems to have picked the Durenese section of all sections to return to. Very well, you may accompany me, and pray the wolf does not rip your throat out for staring."
"He wouldn't do that!" said Sahmas defensively, but his commander had already launched himself forward with determination, and Sahmas moved to keep up.
Sahmas noted that the commander's behaviour was odd. He would walk in a regimented line, crisp swing of his arms and walking parallel with groups of knights. However, he would then shake his head and suddenly dart in a diagonal that felt very wrong.
"Something wrong, sir?" asked Sahmas, keeping up easily though still surprised.
"Nothing, Vakeros, that you need concern yourself with," he said to Sahmas. There was then a smile on his face. "Just keep thinking about seeing your first wolf creature."
Sahmas was about to reply, but then spotted someone he thought he recognised. There was a youngish Knight of the White Mountain standing, looking around at the blasted land this place had become. The knight was looking over at the time, and Sahmas waved at the man. It was only a moment later, after the blank look, that Sahmas finally put the face in context. It was the knight that, along with a Sommlending knight and Beowuuf, had spoken out on the trouble Eshnar was in. Sahmas had, embarrassingly, never met the knight. He hurried on.
"We need to go towards the central mass of houses still left," said a voice closeby. "From that shelter we can then move expeditionary forces outwards again!"
"No, we need to conduct a sweeping search of the area infront of us, and advance on Eshnar slowly!" said a contradictory voice.
The two voices belonged to a Durenese Knight Commander and a Sommlending commander facing off. Cera did another of his diagonals, although this time it was an entirely natural move.
"Commander? What is your business here if I may ask?" came one of the voices, directed at Cera.
"The wolf. I need to conduct a debrief," said Cera simply, and started to walk away.
"The wolf came to the Durenese section, it is is only proper that the Durenese 'debrief' the creature first!" came the reply from the Durense Commander.
"He's our wolf, and I think I have juristiction," said Cera politely and firmly.
"She came to our section first, and blast whatever contacts you have to that community."
"It's a he, and appearances to the contrary, is-"
"Yes, we all know about your blasted wolf creature that sent us out here in the first place," said the Durenese Commander.
"Actually, I think you will find it was your knight that gave the report," said the Sommlending commander nastily.
"Can someone tell me what is going on with my father!" yelled Sahmas, the bickering getting to him for so many reasons.
Luckily for Sahmas, the three commanders that turned on him with shock at the breach in protocol did not have time to castigate him. For a group of soldiers brought forward the wolf creature. Unluckily for Sahmas, he could tell right away that the creature being brought forward was not Beowuuf.
|
|
|
Post by Simey on Apr 8, 2010 20:20:47 GMT -5
Northwest of Eshnar
"What do you think? Has the whole world gone mad?"
The horse that he'd dubbed Adeka just stared at Simey and chewed on the feed from her nose bag, there being little grass remaining on the blackened ground, and that which there was looking decidedly poisonous. She was an acceptable steed, but Simey wished that Konj, his own horse, were with him just so that he didn't feel so entirely lonely surrounded by an army of his fellows.
"Look at them. It just gets worse."
Having been distracted from his contemplation of the annihilated surroundings by a young Vakeros he didn't remember ever having seen before rather bizarrely waving at him, Simey's attention had followed the Dessi knight and his commander as they had made to pass the Durenese and Sommlending commanders and enter the Durenese section. An argument had started. Another one. The time since they had arrived at the edge of the 'affected area' - as some officers, in hideous euphemism, seemed to be calling it - had been characterised by constant fluctuations in levels of discipline and order, from one extreme to the other. But whereas most disagreements - and, conversely, incapacitating agreements - had been about the army's next move, the focus of this dispute appeared to be something quite different.
One hand gently scratching between Adeka's ears, the other resting on her nose, Simey watched as the vortex of commotion gradually sucked in more men, most simply seeming to back up their commanders in whatever stance they were taking. Over thirty yards away it was difficult to discern any individual voices, and therefore work out exactly what the quarrel was about, but it seemed to be centred on someone hidden in the midst of the growing group of knights.
After a while, a man detached himself from the altercatory whirl. Simey stopped scratching the horse. Knight-Commander Gelas Fleck was striding in his direction, staring straight at him. Fleck had been responsible for Simey with regards to proceedings at the Magnamund Knights' Council's inaugural meeting, and had treated him with barely disguised contempt since he had revealed the return of the Darklord Xog to the gathering in a somewhat eccentric manner. The list of those among the knightly army with whom Simey had wished to converse since they had left Holmgard was non-existent, but had there been one, Fleck would have been at the bottom of it.
"Vojske. Come here," called Fleck with sharp flick of his head.
Simey reluctantly parted with the protecting company of Adeka, patting her despondently on the neck as he moved away towards his superior.
"Vojske," Fleck said again, with a surprising lack of disdain, Simey thought. "You know wolf creatures, don't you?"
"Sir?" queried Simey, confused as much by Fleck's businesslike manner as by the question.
"Wolf creatures," said Fleck matter-of-factly, his eyes briefly looking Simey over as if examining his suitability for some sort of introduction: "you have experience."
"A little, sir," Simey replied, trying to sound positive, though feeling somewhat adrift of the situation. "The Vakeros: Beowuuf."
"Good." Fleck paused for a moment, maintaining heavy eye contact with Simey. "You're drawn to negotiation, diplomacy, discussion, aren't you?" said the Knight-Commander, the expression of one affronted by the suggestion flitting across his face. "Well now's your chance without wandering off. Follow me."
Fleck turned and headed back towards the argument still going on, and Simey followed, his mind racing with thoughts of what he might be asked to do, and with wonderings regarding what the Knight-Commander knew about him that could have prompted his last few words. When they were half a dozen yards from the edge of the commotion Fleck motioned Simey to stop and stepped forward towards the Durenese captain. After the two had exchanged a few words, Knight-Captain Behlen was turning to look in Simey's direction.
But Simey's attention was almost immediately taken by what the commander's movement revealed. Amid the knights of various factions was a wolf creature. Was Beowuuf.
Was not Beowuuf.
Simey blinked and looked again.
|
|
|
Post by Al on Apr 10, 2010 13:01:21 GMT -5
Eshnar
Bon-Al had seen much over his years, but nothing could compare to the devastation that he and his nephew encountered at Eshnar. From the initial slaughter of his family to the long wars with the Darklords and the remnants of their forces, he had thought he had seen it all. He had participated in many a siege, and had experienced then from both the besieger and besieged perspective. He had witnessed the destruction of castles, towns and cities. Nothing, though, had prepared him for what he saw before him. No implement of war that he was familiar with, and as a Dwarf he was familiar with many, could do this to a city. No wizard, no matter how powerful, that he had ever heard of could marshal this kind of power. As he stared at the desolate landscape that was Eshnar, he could only imagine what could do something like this.
Yet even more disturbing to him, though, was the behavior of the Dwarfs and Vengeance. He had never seen discipline this poor in a dwarf force before, and he could clearly tell that it worsened the closer they got to Eshnar. He knew his nephew and knew his nephew's soldiers, so he knew that it was not a result of poor training or lack of leadership. This was a dark magic seeping its way into the very hearts of his nephew's men.
Looking towards his nephew, Bon-Al simply states "in all me years I have never encountered anything like this. If this foul magic so influences the minds o' Dwarfs, how will the weaker minds o' men handle this? We need tae warn the Knights Council o' the dangers they face. I fear that this insidious magic could lead tae the downfall of our Alliance." Bon-Al inadvertently shivered at the thought of the forces of Na'ar defeating the freelands though subversion on a grand scale. He silently prayed to Ishir that Bor and her allies would never be tricked down such a path.
Bon-Al then goes into deep thought. He did not know many magic users personally. While he did have many dealings with the Magicians Guild of Toran as part of his former Ambassadorial duties, he did not know then enough to trust them, and after his encounter with the fallen Kai at the Monastery, he had great difficulty placing trust in the reputations of human organizations. Instead, he thought to the initial quest that brought him to Sommerland, and his good friend, the Sage Trest.
"What do ye think, Vengeance, should we seek out Trest again?" he asked his faithful dog. But Vengeance, his mind altered by the strange magics, merely growled in anger at Bon-Al for disturbing him.
I wonder if I am being affected too? Thought Bon-Al to himself. After all, how would I know?
|
|
|
Post by zipp on Apr 11, 2010 21:18:06 GMT -5
The Army outside of Eshnar
Cloe held back the urge to tear the throat out of the knight who had led her into the camp. She remembered enough about humans from her past to note that knights still dealt with things the same way they always had. If they understood it, they shot it salutes... unless they outranked it, in which case they glowered. If they didn't understand it they grabbed it and squeezed until they did.
In Cloe's case, her arm had now been held for so long and tightly that she had lost feeling in the fingers of her right hand. Looking around her at the company of soldiers and squires that had been gathering ever since her arrival, Cloe felt gawked at and proud enough to blush underneath her grey-silver fur. She'd forgotten how attached humans were to their clothing. Among the wolf creatures, clothing was simply a symbol of status and little else. Only those who didn't hunt wore clothing; thus clothing marked out those who were either too venerable or valuable (or powerful) to lose. As few wolves would ever allow themselves to willingly be removed from the hunt, even among the elderly it was rare that a wolf wore more than the occasional sash or satchel.
Cloe, though, had lived among humans for years. She had even, at the height of her power, taken on the form of a human woman for a time. She shook her head now without realizing it, at the thought of such folly. Why would she have ever wanted to be counted among the ranks of such weak creatures? Creatures that weren't even blessed with fur to keep them warm in winter? She couldn't remember now her reasons and once again felt the disconnect between who she was now and who she had been before. She wondered if that Cloe would've felt so naked amidst so much armour and leather. She wondered if that Cloe would've been able to stop herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust at the smell of unwashed bodies and the sweat of horses; the smell of poorly cooked, spoiling, meat.
"Can someone tell me what is going on with my father!"
The voice rang out clearly above the racket of the army. A movement in the crowd ahead caught her attention. Her ears pricked up and she looked forward towards the sound. Three men blocked her view of whoever had yelled the words, but she picked up the smell of puberty, which lasted so long in humans. A youth, then, and a male. Headstrong, from his smell, and very agitated or excited about something.
She glanced over at the man holding her arm. They had been standing still for some time now, so Cloe supposed they had reached their destination. He was looking directly ahead at someone. Cloe followed the stare and for a moment felt puzzled. The man who came through the crowd wore no armour, but he was obviously a knight like the others, for he wore their colours. It was his stare that captured her interest. He stared at her in confusion, as if he both knew her and didn't. For a moment longer, Cloe watched him. She felt... not like she knew this man but like she should. Like somehow they were connected in ways that didn't involve their meeting. Disturbed, she looked away, back at the man who still held her arm in a vice-like grip.
"Alright," she said. But it was all she could say. She didn't know what was expected of her. She hadn't thought to find an army out in the middle of the wasteland, especially not one so large and well equipped. Usually an army required a war of some kind. But this one just seemed to be mulling about outside of a ruined city.
Yes, she had passed the city on the way here and smelled its emptiness on the wind. It wasn't the sickly emptiness of plague or the sour emptiness of smoke, fire, and siege. It was just emptiness. There was nothing left in that city, if her senses were speaking to her correctly. She saw the scarred land and smelled the lingering scent of sorcery (the smell made her fur shiver with recognition and half-remembered scenes from her past), but it seemed that whatever had blighted this land had gone. Why an army would want to camp outside of such a place was beyond her.
But then, these were humans she was dealing with. One never knew what to expect with their kind. Even the knights.
|
|
|
Post by Simey on Apr 28, 2010 19:46:11 GMT -5
Near the ruins of Eshnar
The gaze was steady and coldly interested. Then an apparent hint of unease pushed the wolf creature's attention away. Simey frowned as a bulky form loomed close.
"You've spent time with the Vakeros wolf." Simey had barely raised hand to temple in salute before Knight-Captain Behlen was speaking to him, and he had no time to confirm the accuracy of the statement before the man continued. "You'll assist us in talking to this one and finding out where she's come from and what she's doing here."
"She, sir?" Glancing beyond the captain, Simey could see that the wolf creature was being manoeuvred away from the crowd, a line of Durenese knights dissuading through unyielding bearing rather than force of action their Sommlending and Dessi brethren from trying to follow. Among those being held back was the young Dessi knight that had waved at Simey only minutes before. It briefly concerned Simey that both the wolf creature and the Vakeros youth who appeared keenest to pursue her - neither of whom he recalled ever having seen previously - seemed to have momentarily focused on him specifically, but he had quickly to turn his mind to what was being asked of him, as he was forced to move off in Behlen's wake, the captain making an unhurried response. "That's what she seems to be suggesting. I can't say as I have the expertise to tell for sure."
The knight manhandling the wolf creature, Knight-Commander Fleck, Knight-Captain Behlen and a couple more Durenese knights apparently acting as guards converged in front of an officer's tent. Simey halted respectfully a few feet away from the group, but Behlen turned, grasped his shoulder and dragged him in between himself and Fleck. The wolf's attention was immediately on Simey, curiosity perhaps mixing with perturbation in her eyes, though there was a degree of alienness to her he hadn't felt in Beowuuf which made it hard to tell. Simey felt Behlen and Fleck to either side of him share a glance.
"Greetings," said Simey awkwardly, inclining his head slightly towards the wolf. The creature continued in her peculiarly conflicted stare. "You come among knights of the Magnamund Knights' Council, and yet I take it you are not one of us - not even of the Vakeros?"
The wolf's head tilted slightly. "Not even of the Vakeros," she repeated in a strange, inconclusive tone that did nothing to help Simey decide what to ask next. For a long moment he just looked at the creature, wondering how it was that he should come across two such outlandish beings in the space of a few weeks. Finally, vaguely aware of a commotion over by the symbolic Durenese barricade, he settled on asking the question uppermost in his mind.
"Do you know what happened here?"
|
|
|
Post by zipp on Apr 29, 2010 13:39:47 GMT -5
Cloe cocked her head at the question and then bared her teeth. Instantly the guards around her drew back a pace. At that, Cloe stifled a surprised laugh. Had these fools never seen a wolf smile? The young knight's question had provoked the reaction from her. His question had mirrored her own thoughts so exactly, even down to his intonation, that she couldn't help but smile. The humans had just asked her what was going on, when she didn't even know where she was. The gods were playing with her, it seemed.
However, as the moment passed, other questions pounded in her mind. If she was being questioned then that meant this army was ill-informed. That confused her, because armies usually didn't gather without purpose and they usually asked their questions after that purpose was complete. Again she recalled the disorganization she had seen while being led through camp like a prisoner and she realized that this army might be an exception to the rule. But what army gathered without knowing where it was going or what it was fighting? Curiosity stabbed at her.
She turned her grey eyes upon the young knight and smiled again.
"This is no way for two people to talk," she said. "What harm have I done this camp that I am being paraded around in such a manner? Must you pull at my arm so?" Cloe snarled the question. Though the knights flinched a bit at the display, she was disappointed that they didn't step further back. Was she losing her powers of intimidation? Then she recalled that she was in the middle of a well-armed forced and reassessed her tactics.
Her voice became oiled honey, tinged at the edges with a slight pleading. The smile this time was more of a grimace as she let her weight sag in the grip of the man who held her. "I am exhausted from my travels," she said. "I saw the encampments and came here out of desperation. I have been living on grass snakes and beetles for the last three days. Please, some food and water to clear my head." She shot a look at the knight holding her. "That arm may come in useful some day, if you don't break it first."
Contrary to her request, the grip on her shoulder tightened. She ignored him, though, instead keeping her attention focused on the younger knight who had questioned her. She sensed if she was going to receive sympathy, it would come from him.
|
|
Sahmas
New Member
Vakeros
Posts: 4
|
Post by Sahmas on May 2, 2010 17:04:17 GMT -5
Sahmas ran as fast as he could in his heavy armour.
He wanted to scream at the officers surrounding him. The Durenese in charge of the wolf creature were being officious, stating precident and regulations to the Sommlending Commander and Sahmas's own commander Cera. The Sommlending was arguing ancient histories in return, while the Vakeros was being drawn into slowly and logically addressing each point.
The tone was so wrong. Every side was being embarrassingly rude and patronising to the other sides, and yet there seemed to be no passion to it. And there was certainly no urgency to it. Whatever strange, oppressive atmosphere the army was under after seeing the blasted ruins of Eshnar, this behaviour was not helping resolve it.
Sahmas wanted to scream, then yell at someone. However, he knew it would both not help, and would also be professionally unwise. Sahmas did not care for such things himself, but he had no wish to embarrass his father. After all, Beowuuf had enough issues in the way of his being taken seriously. Having a petulant son aggrevating the upper eschelons of command was probably a blindside the wolf could do without once he returned. And the wolf would return.
Perhaps Sahmas was trying to think of what his father would do in this situation, or perhaps just the links in his mind seemed obvious. Sahmas was shaking with emotion, but channelled it to give him the courage to simply run off unnoticed and do what he realised he had to.
All the knights were locked in their strange regimented thinking right now, unable to move. However, there was something that could smash through alot of officiousness - the greater, and very delicate, rules and regulations regarding diplomacy. The dwarfish allies - despite the back biting of the knights at the moment - were a necessary part of this expedition. Their political and physical support to the Council meant the knights could not just ignore a request from the dwarfs, surely?
And Beowuuf had, in his travels, stumbled into being the temporary ambassador to the dwarfs. The dwarfs had wanted to secure an alliance directly with the military of the three free nations that the Magnamund Knights' Council represented. Surely Sahmas could leverage that. Surely the dwarfs - especially in this atmosphere of intolerance - would want to exert their influence so they could be a part of anything that seemed to be hidden. Especially if it was being reported by the man - well creature - who was supposed to be a liason to them aswell. They didn't need to know, for now, it was a different wolf creature.
"Halt, young 'un!" said a voice. The dwarf had appeared as if from nowhere. Despite his loose brogue, he handled the Bor rifle levelled at Sahmas's head with extreme skill. And his eyes were narrowed in calculaton.
"I'm looking for...for...Ironforge!" said Sahmas, relieved at recalling the name. "My... a wolf creature, Beowuuf, he's your ambassador from the Kngihts' Council! The Durenese have taken...a wolf creature for a...a...debriefing!"
The dwarf lowered his rifle. "I thought the wolf creature was a Vakeros. Why is he under Durenese authority?"
"My commander is trying to petition for the wolf creature to be debriefed infront of all the knight commanders, but is being blocked."
Sahmas, only as he started speaking, realised he was potentially sparking a diplomatic incident between Durenor and the dwarfs of Bor. And, of course, making the Council seem as divicive and weak as it currently was. Sahmas's skin prickled and he felt slightly sick, but he was already engaged. He had to ignore the tunnelling vision and hot prickles at the back of his neck for now.
"I'll bring it to the attention of the Rifle Commander, and General Ironforge," said the dwarf.
"They're right there!" said Sahmas, feeling the situation slip away from him - he needed to speak to Ironforge directly. Both to repair the damage of his hasty words which would only get worse as rumour, and to actually secure the dwarf's aid. His head started pounding.
The dwarf raised his rifle again as the young knight took a step forward. The fact the dwarf did not currently have his finger on the trigger was not particularly reassuring. The rifle then drifted to Sahmas's right.
"At ease," said a voice. Sahmas turned around and saw a well groomed knight - Sommlending by his apparel - making placatory gestures. The man's current neat appareance could not hide his rough hands and weathered features. He had obviously spend many days and nights in the wild. "I heard mention of the wolf creature. Why? I was one of his companions."
Sahmas looked around properly to the knight. "The wolf was a scout, he went alone with the Border Rangers," said the Vakeros, feeling uncertain.
"I meant before, when he travelled to Holmgard," said the man. And Sahmas realised this man must have been the Sommlending knight that had stood shoulder to shoulder with Simey and Beowuuf on the podium at the meeting. A meeting where all three united had revealed the truth of Eshnar's ruin that the council had not wished to commit action on.
Sahmas was torn. Shouldn't he contiinue the fight to gain the dwarfs, especially given the damage his words might have caused?
Sahmas's fear and Valos training kicked in. He shifted his thoughts and position to focus fully on the Sommlending knight. "Then surely the council should be asking for you to help speak to the wolf creature?"
"Yes, they should," said the knight. Sahmas had been treading carefully around the full truth enough to spot the subtle inflection. It hinted that while the council should use this knight, they apparently didn't want to. "Show me where he is."
Again Sahmas was torn. The knight was not an acceptable representative to speak to the wolf. And yet he knew the situation, and was being coy about his unsuitability. Just like Sahmas.
"Please, pass on the message to General Ironforge!" said Sahmas to the dwarf. "I...I may have the situation wrong," he said quickly, but realised the damage, if any were done, had already been done. Without further words, he turned to the knight and gestured back in the direction of the Durense.
"What is your name, Vakeros?" asked the knight.
"Sahmas Ordalo, sir, of the Valos college" said Sahmas. Embarrassingly, he did not know the ranks of the Sommlending knighthood. However, he knew that 'sir' would serve him well. Even if the knight was not sufficiently ranked within the army, the Sommlending would actually be truly knighted and have that honourific.
"Sir Armadalus," said the knight in reply. There was then a silence that was uncomfortable to Sahmas. Sahmas had nothing to say to this taciturn man, and no way in to start a dialgoue. Sahmas observed the man had a very focused stance. He was staring off into the distance, ignoring the signs of disruption now they were back in the knights' areas of the army.
"Will your commander allow me to see the wolf? Or at least get close?" asked Armadalus out loud suddenly.
"He has been trying to, but has not been successful," said Sahmas truthfully, "the Durenese are being standoffish."
"It seems the fashion at the moment," said Armadalus, finally looking around and then looking to Sahmas. "Your commander's request for the dwarf's involvement was certainly ...lateral thinking." There was a hint of some tone there. Sahmas decided to mount a stoic defense of his own, and simple nodded.
"I have a contact in the Durense section that I have not been able to find. I assume he will be with the wolf creature."
"Yes, I think I saw him," said Sahmas without thought.
The knight paused for a moment to look at Sahmas, then unwound again. "Good," he said. Sahmas realised with a sinking feeling that Armadalus did not actually care about the wolf creature. For some reason, he had been seeking his previous companion Simey. Or perhapos he was seeking Beowuuf and Simey together. Still, if the knight had any way to get closer to the Durenense, that was the thing, wasn't it?
The commanders were still arguing. Sir Armadalus seemed to bias himself away from that group and aiming at the edge of the Durenese guards.
"I know Sir Simey Vojske, I understand he is there and requires my assistance?" said Armadalus, not breaking stride. Sahmas was impressed, and had move speed up again to keep up.
"Knight, hold!" came the voice of the Durenese commander, who had unfortunately spotted the Sommledning knight's movements even as the Durenese guard had been taken unawares and couldn't comprehend what to do fast enough.
Sahmas's commander spoke up. "Commander, I remind you that you may not order another's knights while their chain of command is still intact and present."
The Sommlending commander took up that point of contention. "Indeed, by section fifteen of the third accord, this being a potential theatre of battle, I must invoke the mandatory dictate that you do not confuse the chains of command by issuing potentially contraditory orders to a knight of a different region unless specifically provoked for commands, or unless the chain is visibly..."
Armadalus took advantage of the confusion to simple walk passed the guard, saying, "He told you to hold, knight, stand down, please," and carried on.
Sahmas was surprised to see his own commander threw a small wink in Sahmas's direction. Sahmas hurried after Armadalus. It was surprisingly hard to keep up with the man, despite his slightly order age he was both in good physical condition, and more importantly had a predatory stance that mean he was moving without hesitation to the gathered Durenese.
Sahmas's Valos training again was required, this time to allow him to physically react in time to the knight's surprising drive.
And he required that same training to not walk into the knight when Armadalus sudden'y stopped short.
He only said a single word in explanation at his pause, and it was not directed in Sahmas's direction. "Her!"
|
|
|
Post by Simey on Jun 28, 2010 18:32:00 GMT -5
Near the ruins of Eshnar
Simey started as though out of an unnecessarily long slumber, his focus on the wolf creature broken. And then his heart sank into icy depths as he saw who was approaching.
"What is this?" said Knight-Captain Behlen, rounding on the interrupting knight. That knight ignored the captain completely and halted mere yards from the wolf, glaring intensely at the creature.
Simey could tell that Armadalus was shocked, though the Sommlending was, unsurprisingly, masking the fact well, carrying most obviously an air of accusation. But as he looked at the man for a moment, Simey thought he could see something deeper in his eyes: furious self-chastisement and, incredibly, fear.
"Your companion." Knight Commander Fleck's words were evenly spoken, but Simey could sense behind them his superior's curiosity about the time that he had been out of contact with his order, accompanying Armadalus across Cloeasia and then into Eshnar.
The Sommlending took no notice of Fleck, his eyes instead flicking briefly to Simey. "It's her, Vojske," Armadalus said, his voice struggling against tightness. "The one we were hunting."
It took a moment for Simey to realise what Armadalus meant, but when he did he glanced incredulously at the wolf. The creature was regarding Armadalus with an expression of puzzled aggression, its body taut, ready to attack, defend or flee. Simey's mind raced back to the days following his meeting Armadalus and recalled their tediously traipsing through the Wildlands and Northern Cloeasia in pursuit of an unknown quarry, one which Simey had back then assumed - and despite for a time coming to respect Armadalus to a degree, had continued to believe - was a figment of the Sommlending's imagination. That distant phantom made flesh was as jarring as it was ridiculous.
Looking back at the man, Simey wanted at once to ask Armadalus how he knew and to berate him for resurrecting a half-forgotten insanity. But the company present supressed his desire to speak and he simply glared back at his former companion, trying hard to keep recognition from his face.
"She's the one," said Armadalus, his gaze - having settled back on the wolf, boring into her - returning with apparent effort to Simey. "She's the one, Vojske. My men. I know you know what happened."
Simey shivered at Armadalus' words, and his teeth clamped hard together as he returned the Sommlending's gaze, trying desperately to guess the man's intent.
"Vojske, do you know something about this creature?" said Fleck, confusion and intrigue colouring his tone.
Looking at Armadalus, Simey could see a man of utter conviction who - in some bizarre, inexplicable way - he had come to trust and even admire in the weeks before they had arrived in Holmgard. But he was also staring at a man whose origins he did not know, of whose purpose he was no longer certain; the only man who might reveal the truth about him - his mind's imbalance, his hallucinations - and thereby have him removed from his order and disgraced.
"No, sir," said Simey, his heart, expression and tone as cold as stone. "Sir Armadalus claimed to be hunting a beast creature when I was assigned to assist him. I believed him to be delusional. I see no reason to think otherwise now."
The small part of Simey crying out inside him that he was doing the wrong thing was shocked into silence by Armadalus' look of disbelief and betrayal.
"Might I be so bold as to suggest, sir, that his intrusion be removed, so that we may continue our interrogation?" Simey turned to Knight-Captain Behlen.
And hoped that his eyes did not show the pain.
|
|
|
Post by zipp on Jun 29, 2010 12:10:20 GMT -5
Near the ruins of Eshnar
Something had just happened. Cloe wasn't sure exactly what, but she knew she needed to take advantage of it.
The man holding her arm had loosened his grip during the confusion of the last few seconds. Cloe shook free of him suddenly and pulled herself up to her full height. She had always been a runt among her own people, but amidst humans she still struck an impressive figure. The captain who had been holding her was startled back into action and reached for his sword. Cloe shot a look at him and suddenly she felt something pass out of her.
The Captain stopped and looked at her with glazed eyes. Cloe hid her surprise and instead spoke. "It seems that this man is going to be the one to interrogate me," she said, indicating the youth called Vojske. "I'd prefer to do such things in private and I'd prefer to get them over with quickly. With your permission, captain?" She said this last bit with a heavy tone of sarcasm.
The Captain drunkenly nodded. "Sir Knight," he said to the stunned Simey, stumbling over the words somewhat. "You are to take this Creature to some private place and find out what she knows. She'll cooperate."
The Captain turned to the crowd assembled around him and seemed to find his usual voice again. "Company dismissed!" he boomed. "Everyone back to their posts! I want to see this happening now, rather than later. Let's get a move on!"
As the crowd slowly began to disperse, Cloe gave Simey an appraising look. "Well, Vojske," she said. "I'm ready to be interrogated."
|
|
|
Post by Simey on Jun 29, 2010 19:37:41 GMT -5
Near the ruins of Eshnar
Simey stared dumbly at the wolf creature, aware all the time that he was quite literally becoming more and more alone, but his mind capable only of blearily entertaining various questions: How had the situation changed just like that? Had she done it? If she had been able all along to take control like that, why had she not done so before?
After a few moments the wolf's head tilted forwards and her eyes regarded him impatiently through the particularly bushy tufts of hair that passed for her eyebrows, one of which was raised scornfully. Simey turned round to look for Knight-Captain Behlen, wanting to reaffirm with his superior the order that was going to leave him alone with this beast, but the captain had moved off with everyone else. In looking about, Simey caught sight of Armadalus and the young Vakeros that had arrived with him being manoeuvred away from the Durenese section. Mere moments after having calculatingly refuted the Sommlending's claim in order to safeguard himself, he sorely wished to have the man at his side, inevitably acting decisively despite the peculiarity of the situation. But it was too late for that now; Simey was on his own, and he had to cope as best he could.
"Right," he said, turning back to the wolf and singling out a nearby tent around which he'd not noticed any recent activity, "come with me."
Simey headed for the tent, and was mildly surprised that the wolf followed him as requested, though he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't an air of mockery to her compliance. As they walked, violent images of soldiers being slaughtered by some half-seen beast suddenly flashed into his mind: the dreadful imagining of his for which Armadalus would apparently blame this creature. Simey shuddered. It was completely crazy that some monster his mind had dreamt up should turn up in the flesh months later, but the strangeness surrounding Armadalus' seeming knowledge of the hallucination did cause an excessively paranoid part of him to wonder if he was about to find himself completely alone with a living nightmare.
Arriving at the tent, Simey quickly checked that it was unoccupied and then gestured the wolf inside. The interior suggested that this was a planning post, for whilst there was nowhere to sleep, there was a sizeable table as well as several lantern hooks and a small table of spirits for the officers. Within moments Simey found himself - naturally, but nevertheless uncomfortably - on the opposite side of the table from the wolf. His mouth half-opened several times as questions ranging in quality from mundane down to facile jostled reluctantly to pass his lips. Eventually, the alienness of the wolf not disguising the unimpressed hue of her gaze, he managed to order his thoughts sufficiently to speak.
"I want to know where you have come from and why you are here," Simey said as authoritatively as he could. Then, despite knowing that he may be revealing too much, he blurted out, "And whether you know the Vakeros, Beowuuf."
|
|