Hello! Welcome, pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. Care for some tea? No? that's a shame, you gonna get some anyone. If only to warm you hands hmm? Here I've got an after battle Rp report thing. Not quite a battle Rp but it has bits of it. Much more of a, after the battle report. Aveston, Barcan Capital, first battle. D'harans, Astrumese and Barcan's of course, against Lurians. Luria won the battle. Here is Aldrakar as he wanders the streets of Aveston, his former Lordship in Sun Hall.A Return to AvestonA dog was barking. The pitiful creature's shrill sound incessant and it defied his last remaining bit of self control. His eye wandered over to where the mutt was tugging at a leather strap protruding from a ruined splint mail cuirass. It belonged to a dead Barcan warrior. His body broken and lodged in his chest were 2 heavy arrows probably fired from a war-bow. Aldrakar felt a tinge of regret bubble up from somewhere deep down inside him and only with a great effort of willpower managed to suppress it once more.
His steel sabbatons splashed down into the mud every step of the way. Grime reached all the way up to his armored thighs and memories of intense fighting flashed through his mind as he made his way through the gatehouse of Aveston.
A memory:''Fire! Damn it! Shoot at anything that moves! Shoot!'' The captain of his soldiers was in a frenzy howling orders over the ranks of his men. Left and right of his of his formation there were other Lurian Nobles and their men. Archers and Elites, exchanging missile fire with the League's forces still in Aveston. It had been a very long time since dawn and the beginning of the battle. Whistling in the air and burying all around him were arrows and slingshot bullets. He heard a gurgling sound to his left and as he glanced he took in the scene of one of his soldiers grasping a fat arrow shaft that had lodged in his throat. He turned his gaze back to the town and loosed an arrow of his own.
''M'Lord? what are your orders?'' Aldrakar snapped back into the present. He recognized the voice of his captain but not the gore covered man in front of him. ''Lord Marshal Edwyle has initiated a Take Over of the Town, instruct the men to assist and spread the word to the other Nobles. These are our people, show sympathy.'' The words flowed from him without much thought and his eyes had already started to wander. ''Yes M'lord, as you say!'' The captain saluted but Aldrakar didn't pay attention anymore.
He looked at the remains of a smoldering building near the gatehouse, once a Stable he guessed. He put a hand to the blackened beams that outlined its main entrance.
A memory:Thunder rose from the land as the hooves of the Lurian Cavalry charged over the field towards the town. What were they doing!? Aldrakar thought to himself. His hair was unmarked by grime although sweat had already claimed a place. It flicked through his field of vision like a bright golden curtain and as it lifted, one moment the Cavalry was full of pride and gusto and the next. Horses have a terrible scream. Leaning far out over the wooden battlements did the defenders shoot down into the exposed necks and rumps of the horses. Riders were thrown and their bodies broken as the massive bodies of the dying horses crashed into them. Even from this distance Aldrakar could hear the excited whoops mingle with the death-screams.
He lifted his hand from the scorched doorpost and time continued around him again. The street before him was riddled with arrows. It was a mud road but perhaps there were beams below the mud. He couldn't tell at the moment. The gatehouse he entered the town through was a scene from a horror story. Mangled bodies hung from all sides and blood had run freely from and over every part of it. Several mangy dogs were worrying on the fingers and faces of dead soldiers. Aldrakar tried to feel anger but was simply to tired.
A group of Lurian soldiers marched past him at that moment. In poor order and they were dirty but he didn't pay them much mind. He continued on his route. He wanted to see his old manor, if it still existed. He made his way through the outside ring of houses closest to the gatehouse and eventually entered the commons. Most of the houses were untouched by the battle save for the copious amounts of barricades. They had expected to fight for every street Aldrakar realized. Many of the inhabitants were cheering. Well, cheering is a big word. They did not mind the Lurians, they were Lurians after all. They also showed sadness however Aldrakar noted. They had come to grow fond of the Barcan Nobles. They offered refreshments, as they were available, to both Lurian and Barcan soldiers. The wounded of course.
Aldrakar thanked a comely woman of some 25 summers for a drink of water she offered from a wooden bucket. She looked at him with big, hazel brown eyes. Her hair kept down by a length of cloth that covered her head and was tied under her chin. Aldrakar drank deeply from the proffered, wooden spoon. His armor made sound. It had improved a great deal since his early days. Still practical but high quality steel where before it was bronze and it was engraved or adorned now. Not in the way where it was impractical for combat but still refined. Standing next to her at a well he took his time to carefully remove his dark steel gauntlets and hung them from his belt.
The woman looked afraid now and he made a few calming sounds like one would do to a skittish horse. He ran his hands through his filthy hair and pushed some of the muck and blood and whatever else was in there out. He motioned to the water and she poured it over his hands as he cleaned them. His ocean blue eyes caught hers and he nodded, she averted. Looking around at the town he produced a single gold piece from his belt and put it on the brick of the well and left her there.
He walked down towards the center of the Town and recognized the old buildings. Vesperi in style, the old Lurian style native to Sun Hall. He had to smirk at a Barcan statue placed at one of the administrative buildings. Perhaps a sign of their time in power. He resolved to have it brought to Giask and preserved. Wishful thinking probably, it might very well be smashed by drunk soldiers the coming eve.
Vertigo washed over him and he had to steady himself leaning against a stack of crates outside of a smithy. Inside there were pig-iron blades of horrible quality. They certainly tried to prepare themselves Aldrakar thought. He pushed himself away from the stack of crates and continued on his way. A duo of children rushed past him. One had something red in his hands. ''Stop! You bleeding mongrels!'' A voice called. In moments a burly man appeared. His face red, patchy beard and a bald forehead but still sporting a short pony tail.
The man came to a dead-halt upon seeing Aldrakar in full Battle Gear, including the gore. His mind worked and came to the conclusion the red could only have been an apple or tomato. ''Leave them be.'' He said to the red faced man. ''They've just lived through an assault and you can spare the food.'' The man blanched. ''Yes M'lord Aldrakar. Of course.'' He bowed deeply. Aldrakar frowned, do I know this man? ''For your trouble.'' He handed the man two pieces of silver and left him standing where he was.
The former Rendorian Estate lay before him. He was now in the Noble district of Aveston. A small community inside the town really, especially compared to the City of Giask he was now used to. He saw the area he had intended to become a botanical garden had been turned into a mustering field. Mud, stubborn grass and a collection of command tents. He smiled ruefully but that was all he could do before they attacked him.
From one of the nearby tents 3 men in studded leather armor burst through the flaps. 2 of them had swords and the third had a mace. ''There's a pretty Lordling we can sell!'' One of them called, he had an ugly nose and Aldrakar dubbed him Ugly. Ugly was the one with the Mace. The trio was upon him in moments.
By instinct entirely did his hand find its way to the handle of his sword and then it sang from its scabbard and gleamed in the mid day sun. A worked length of fine steel, silvered and engraved with beautiful craftsmanship. The first of the three assailants opened his attack with an overhead chop, a measured action really. Executed well enough but far from dangerous to Aldrakar. He moved with grace and without conscious thought. The armor allowing him much more freedom of movement that it would suggest at first glance. The chop missed and in the whirl of the dodge Aldrakar's blade severed the man's arm at the elbow in an upward motion. It cut cleanly through the join and a jet of crimson blood shot out.
The second attacker was more careful. He jabbed twice and made a feint through his footwork. Aldrakar was tired but battle is its own elixir. His mind told him that he was heavily armored and they were not. A man can take risks when he's wearing armor. He dashed forwards before Ugly could mingle into their fight. He slashed wide and returned the slash again, then stabbed and his opponent parried and gave ground. A skillful swordsman.
Aldrakar was sure to keep one hand ready to block blows to his head as if his vambrace was a makeshift mini buckler, which it could be. Ugly had caught up and was attempting to flank him. His foul breath a perfect match with his yellow teeth. A purebred trench soldier, Aldrakar thought. The other swordsman feinted twice more and tried to bait Aldrakar. He was dancing too much and Aldrakar decided to call him Dancer.
Judging Ugly to be a man that values his own life way too much Aldrakar continued to press Dancer. Stab, jab, high slash and return to guard. Dancer was well versed in the combo used against him and parried beautifully. As expected Ugly kept his distance but not so much that Aldrakar could dismiss him, forcing him to check on him and losing precious time and focus.
Dancer noticed as well and as Aldrakar checked on Ugly he made his move. He pressed into Aldrakar's reach and struck towards his elbow, a joint. The joints are where the armor overlaps and where blows are more keenly felt. Aldrakar growled in pain and felt his fingers grow numb for a heartbeat as pain lanced through him limb. Dancer grinned fiercely and readied his follow up attack, a stab. A double gripped stab, one of the few attacks able to penetrate armor.
Ugly had smelled his opportunity as well and had raised his mace to deliver an overhead blow. Aldrakar sensed Ugly being the more eager of the two and turned into the man's attack, using his free hand to grab Ugly's wrist and twisted it. Turning the man forward and between Aldrakar and Dancer. Ugly yelped and then Aldrakar rammed his sword horizontally somewhere at head-height, at Dancer and felt hard leather giving way under the force of his attack. Dancer sighed out air and Aldrakar felt a weight pull down his sword and aimed it downwards as Dancer slid to the ground. Leaving a gaping neck wound gushing blood.
Ugly went down too but he was whimpering now. His sausage like fingers clutching his buddy's sword that protruded from his belly. A red stain blossoming across it. Aldrakar stood over him and watched him. ''Please sirrah, I didn't mean to. They forced me, truly! Please! No!'' Ugly begged but Aldrakar raised his sword, point down and plunged it into his neck and body. Ending Ugly's life and misery. The usual end for men fighting born Knights. The same fate awaited the man with 1 arm.
He wiped the blade on Ugly's corpse and left the trio of fresh dead as they started to emanate the smells of death, particularly piss. He stood before the Rendorian estate and beheld it. It looked different with Barcan decorations but the same somehow. He wondered if Jocelin had lived here. Hoped she was still alive, he hadn't seen her banner.
Lurian Soldiers, his own actually, trickled into the Noble district and soon surrounded their Lord. He however preferred some distance and sat on the steps of his old estate and pondered life.
