Author Topic: Battle of Qubel Lighthouse - Death of Pierre von Genf  (Read 1584 times)

vonGenf

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After all it's a roleplaying game.

vonGenf

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After all it's a roleplaying game.

Renodin

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I've send it to everyone in SA.

anoobowner

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Personally, I thought Pierre was a cool dude. Devastating loss to D'haran morale. I'll miss the guy.

I hope to see your family elsewhere!
VORASH FAMILY: Protheon--Riombara | Prospero--Morek | Pamela--Caergoth

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Indirik

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If at first you don't succeed, don't take up skydiving.

vonGenf

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I've send it to everyone in SA.

Thanks! I can't see it though - I imagine Pierre is already deleted from SA's rolls and dead people can only see news sent to the realm. Is that intentional or an oversight?
After all it's a roleplaying game.

Daycryn

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The scribe respectfully bowed his head, extended his hands. "A letter for you, honored father."

Rabisu took the parchment at once, read it twice. He blinked, but there were no tears. He nodded at his scribe. "You have my thanks, child." Such was good enough as dismissal in these days of business and much to-do, and the scribe turned to leave. "Wait," he called out.

"Yes, father?"

He paused, gathering his thoughts like handfuls of leaves blown by the wind. "Have you ever looked out amongst your friends, your acquaintances, your fellow workers... and realized that while you knew them all, they were replacements for ones left or dead? That in truth, the men and women in your sphere of knowledge are, with a few exceptions, not the ones you had originally known?"

The scribe looked worried. "No... I don't think I have, father."

Rabisu nodded and sighed. "Cherish it, then, that you haven't. It is a weary thing to feel oneself grow ... older."

"Surely with age comes wisdom?"

He smiled sadly. "Only sometimes. And rare it is that with wisdom comes joy. It is rather like seeing each play the actors put on, knowing ahead of time that it will end in tragedy. Only instead of pig's bladder and colored rope, it's true blood and bowels, and the wails of the mourning innocents are genuine."

He shook his head. "Go," he said in a soft voice, "Return this time tomorrow. Today I must spend in my little grief."
Lokenth, Warrior of Arcaea, former Adventurer
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Renodin

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The Siege of Qubel Lighthouse  - As experienced by Aldrakar Renodin

The day was young again, the sky was once again blue and pushing itself up from the horizon rose the sun ever on its cycle that men lived and died by. There were no content little birds chirping in the trees though. Empty where the fields around Qubel Lighthouse of farmers. Instead there was the shouting of men intent on war, the rhythmic crashing of the battering ram on the gates and the shrill song of steel on steel.

The lands surrounding the mighty D'haran Citadel were a scene from the darkest of days. All crops were gone, no tree was left standing and the hills were not made of dirt but of the bodies of men. Walls had crumbled and had spilled their proverbial guts out over the land creating ramps and an ever changing battlefield of rock.

Screaming prevailed as blood drenched so entirely the soil that it stood on the mud in some areas, creating wetlands of crimson where soldiers fought for their lives and where bodies plummeted down into as they cascaded from the battlements. Today was the third assault in a row. Rotting bodies and mangled corpses lay scattered throughout and were visited by hosts of crows who bid the silly humans to continue their struggle, more food for them.

Looking out towards the left of the Citadel Aldrakar could see their earlier attempt of 3 days ago. The entire citadel on that side had caved in like a mountain too greedily dug into by miners. It was true though, the Lurians had send sappers to undermine the walls and it had worked, a bit too well though as it was nearly impossible to cross that area anymore. Like jagged teeth the grey rocks bit onto any that ventured over them never to let go again. The Lurians wouldn't attack from that side today.

Today they were attacking by the newly formed stone rubble piles that reached till the battlements that were created with the tumbling of some of the walls. That and siege ladders of course. The battering rams never seemed to stop so they didn't even register anymore to Aldrakar's ears. His muscled felt tight and he winced as he unsheathed his sword. A beautiful flaming sword that he had been gifted some years ago.

Quietly he remained for a moment as the Lurian troops were preparing their latest assault. He hoped the arrow wounds wouldn't slow him down too much. They had found him the day before but grazed his arm, the day before that as well but then his leg. Calm realization dawned on him, he was riddled with bruises, cuts and all manner of little injuries. His blue eyes the only clean part of his body left it seemed like as he looked up at the broken walls before him.

His armor dented, greaves somewhat bend from a mace, cape shredded by swords and his entirety coated with dried blood he stood among so many and didn't stand out at all. The D'harans no better most likely and equally rich in wounds.

A banner went up and accompanying it a blast of trumpets. It was the Directing Marshal's banner and it was his signal to commence the day's assault. The daily grind, if only it wasn't so acutely true.

A wave of Lurians stormed the D'haran defenses once more, banners heavy with muck and men in ragged formations as many had lost impressive numbers but still they charged. Laden with siege ladders, rope and wicker shields the Lurians set to their grim business. Aldrakar marched with his own men, those that still remained that is. A whole 14 were able to stand and fight. All wounded and all of them could've been seen as Aldrakar if it wasn't for his flaming sword.

They charged with the Lurian wave. They ran through a hail of arrows, they weathered a rain of stones and rushed through gauntlets of seeking spears and terrible siege-craft missiles of D'haran design. A grey flash zipped past Aldrakar's field of vision, he heard a jousting sound of metal being punched through followed by a scrape of boots that was gone in moments. A glance revealed one of his men nailed to a charred and bronze bound gatepost by a ballista bolt. A single hand clutching his spilling gut as his eyes were wide with terror, the light of his life quickly fading from his features.

The small group found themselves rushing up a hill of rubble that led towards one of the remaining walls still manned by D'haran archers. Screams echoed off the debris all around them and it mingled heavily with the sounds of battle. Smoke crept up on combatants and shrouded them in a mist they might never emerge from again. Hiding behind their shields Aldrakar and his men tried to cover their mouths of they climbed as fast as they could, trying to escape the horrors of the smoke. Screeching from above signaled a new cloud of arrows that vanished into the smoke behind them as Aldrakar and his men burst out of its suffocating embrace.

He blinked his eyes frantically to rid it of tears all the while clutching onto his shield, burrowing his face into it as he coughed. ''You hypocrite! You proclaim yourself faithful and fight for a heretic! You shall be thrown back to the depth of the sea far from view of the Stars with your mistress Jonsu!'' A strange and furious voice assailed him.

The voice was much closer than he had expected any enemy should be. If it wasn't so heavy with fury he would've mistaken it for one of his own men. Fear tickled his spine and his senses burst into a higher state of function as a rush of fresh adrenaline shot through his body. He willed his legs into a short sprint that ended when Aldrakar slammed into Pierre von Genf. His arm making a routine and automatic stabbing motion. His mind registered resistance, he smelled burned flesh. Hugging his shield was the body of Pierre, his blood streaming from the mortal gut wound onto Aldrakar's shield.

Giving a shove with his shoulder Aldrakar pushed the already lifeless body of Pierre to the ground. It sagged to the rubble where it lay unanimous among others. Some of them were Lurian and some D'haran. Pierre's men knew and fought like the spirit of rage had taken control of their bodies.

Aldrakar fought desperately and felt many arrows bounced off his shield, off his armor and felt every punch they delivered onto his sore body. He and his men were pushed back by the courageous and defiant D'haran defenders. For the Third time they had been pushed back but only this time with such ferocity.

Back in camp Aldrakar was tended by a healer, new cuts to clean and sew shut. New poultices placed on bruising and washing, basic washing to prevent infection. His mind still on the battle though, who was the man he had slain up on that rampart that elicited such rage from the soldiers around?

It wasn't long before his question was answered as messengers came to his tend with congratulations and heartfelt compliments. Aldrakar listened to a few and then tried to send them away politely. He didn't want to seem ungrateful but he didn't even know the man he had killed. Not in person at least and only little by reputation. This continued, this pondering until evening surrendered onto morning and another new, fresh summer day revealed itself and the sun once more began its ascend into the heavens. The cycle began anew.

Aldrakar determined to learn more of this man, this Pierre von Genf.

Stabbity

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Jonsu sat upon her throne aboard the Aetherium as it sailed the Sallowcape Drift. A raven circled, and landed. A servant brought her the message and stepped back into her place. Jonsu opened it, and laughed out loud as she read it. She stood triumphantly and addressed the crew,

"Lurians! Today we have glorious news, Pierre von Genf, the Liar of D'hara has been slain in combat by our Imperial Marshal. He is the embodiment of D'haran corruption, the very man who as Prime Minister of D'hara was protested out of office for deliberately lying to his own people. Lurian truth always wins over D'haran lies." she announced, which was met by the cheers of the crew of her dromon.
Life is a dance, it is only fitting that death sing the tune.