Author Topic: The Carefree Adventures of Asher Renodin  (Read 9820 times)

Renodin

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Re: The Carefree Adventures of Asher Renodin
« Topic Start: July 26, 2017, 08:16:04 PM »
Hello and welcome!

Today I got a battle RP in a fashion completely unusual. I won't spoiler it, just go ahead and read it. Promise it will be different than what you're used to. Cheers!



Waking up to Betrayal

The orders were clear. Find a way back to the capital of Xavax, any way possible. Next to Asher stood his captain. The man studied the young Knight. Entirely too unconcerned about what he, his men and his Liege, the Knight, were about to do. ‘’Sir, shall we just get on with it then? Little point in delaying now.’’ The tone of the man’s voice casual, bordering on careless. The word Sir his only attempt at decorum.

Before them stood a huge, combined army of the Realms of Minas Nova and Alara. They had blocked the way to Xavax City and knew they only had to wait. Asher tore his eyes away from the enemy host and eyed left and right, counting the banners of his fellow Noblemen, trying to get to a  conclusion other than utterly outnumbered. Numbers didn’t lie, it was at least three to one. He nodded. As much to himself as to the Captain. ‘’Ready the men, signal the General that we are in position.’’ Asher’s voice dry like a mountain stream in winter, waiting for the waters of spring. The captain squared his shoulders and saluted crisply. ‘’Sir.’’ The way he said the word and the way he looked at Asher. The stuff you expect to find in the last chapter of a book or a very good story. A herald signalling the end.

Half an hour late the horns blasted and the order to attack had been given. Asher saw it all for he was ordered to keep his horsemen way in the back of the army. This allowed him to witness the slaughter of the front ranks. Arrows fells from the sky onto the Xavax warriors and they were rooted to the ground. Some alive and screaming but most were silent, in death.

The Xavax men pressed on but their resolve was flagging. The lines backed up on one another. Formations reluctantly merged and caused men to trip. All the while the stars of the enemies kept falling on their heads. The enemy bowmen never paused in their killing.
Asher rode past a block of infantrymen hiding behind a fallen tree. Their captain dead. His corpse pinned to the very piece of dead wood his men now sheltered behind. ‘’Move! Stay behind and die!’’ Asher managed to shout at them before his was past them.

Finding himself breaking through to the frontline along with his horsemen Asher discovered a familiar sight. The Great Banner of House Magdalen. It belonged to Bracka Magdalen, Captain General of Alara and one of the greatest Horsemen of the war. She led a huge force of Cavalry and she led them away and ahead of her own forces. Riding straight for the wavering, Xavax lines. Asher jerked his head towards his men. ‘’See that banner!? That’s where our hammer will fall!’’ He licked his lips. ‘’One blow before the Dawn of our time! Let’s ring that Bell!’’ Not waiting for a response he grabbed the reins with force and his horse surged forwards.

Like a trail of vocal smoke the roars of his men bellowed behind as they followed him. Riding like madmen they broke away from the Xavax Host. ‘’One before the Dawn!’’ Asher Shrieked. ‘’Before the Dawn!’’ The chant around him before it devolved into baseless screaming and shouting.

The two groups of horsemen crashed into one another. One thrice as large as the other. Asher rode at the tip of the wedge, first to land a hit or to die. His eyes fixed on a man in quality ringmail over leather. His hips broad and firmly clutching his beast. A professional then, Asher’s mind concluded. The calculating thought banished as sound flooded his skull once again. Horses screamed, men screamed. Asher’s lance nearly missed its target as the man expertly but yet failed to dodge out of the way. The tip of the lance veered further left and up than intended to salvage a hit. A loud pang was audible, the lance snapped in his hands as ripped his hand wide open. Making short work of his fine riding gloves. For some reason Asher could make out the crunch of metal and bone that was his victim as the man crashed into the dirt. His left shoulder unrecognizable after the explosion of wood and force.

Eyes wide, Asher’s heart fluttered as his veins coursed with liquid exhilaration. Something in his mind told him to look front. He obeyed and knew a heartbeat of utter panic as he saw a blade from for his face. Wielded by a second rider that was set to decapitate him at full speed. Willing to mimic a turtle Asher wished to push his neck into this torso. His helm protested against his shoulder and collarbones. A magnificent ding, deafened him. He saw black and then thought his eyes would explode. Followed by his ears and all he could hear was an incessant ring. He felt warm liquid pour from his nostrils and the uncontrolled swaying of his head, lolling, made him aware of the impossible flexibility of his nose. It had never been in that position before, ever. Deep within his mind, Asher wondered about these things. He felt like he was floating. Suddenly the feeling changed towards one where he was falling, slipping. Clawing to the forefront of his consciousness for all he was worth Asher managed to push open a single eye. The world was glazed in red. His eye stung horribly.

Realizing that he was slipping from his horse Asher focussed on his right arm. It moved a bit, seemingly aimlessly. His left arm was useless. With his right he tried to hold on to the horse. Grab its mane, the saddle, the reins, anything. All he managed was feebly patting the horse’s neck. It was enough to precariously remain in the saddle though. Looking down at the horse he beheld a waterfall of blood. His livery and armour were glistering in the crimson fluid. His mouth fell open, or he expected that but it didn’t. Instead it but cracked open a tiny slit. Slick, metallic goo entered his mouth. Snot and blood and sweat. With shock he realized it was his own blood.

Fear spread to all his limbs and he tried to utter the name of his captain. His whimpering utterly drowned in the cacophony of slaughter. Tears formed in his eyes, one still firmly shut and beyond his control. They ran down his cheeks in hot streaks where they mingled with the blood that flowed from his nose and forehead. A wound he didn’t even realize he had.
Asher tried to turn his head to look for his men but learned he couldn’t. His helmed warped and his neck in agony. He awkwardly turned with his shoulders and saw a glimpse of the Xavax host being annihilated. Tears ran freely. He turned back. A rider came at him. A big man on an ever bigger horse. The man wielded a typical cavalry sword. Longer than that of an infantryman and designed to purpose. Dread warred with fatalism as Asher allowed himself to wonder for a moment. He then pushed himself as far as he could down towards his horse’s head and urged the animal to go fast. He whispered in the noble beast’s ear. Begging. At the last he looked up at his attacker. The man grinned broadly. Like a hunter delivering a final blow to trapped quarry. Asher never even felt the blow. Too far removed from consciousness and his brain too shaken to continue to function properly afterwards.

Nightfall came. The earth was blanketed in her darkness and fireflies danced in the quiet that is only broken by the songs of grasshoppers and bats. That following morning a bright light, like the phoenix that is Xavax, pierced his eye. Asher tried to turn away but pain wracked his body. He tried to shield his eyes with his hand and white hot agony shot through his entire limb. He croaked in pain. In pain but alive.

Over the next four hours of so he learned that he lay among the dead. Crows feasting all around him. One even pecking at the dried and caked tangle that was his hair. He lay against the carcass of a horse with his neck rend open. A small ocean of blood had coagulated around him. Broken spears lay around him like a grizzly perimeter and the limbs and bodies of the dead enshrined him on the battlefield. Fury, futility, despair and comical shock washed over him that day as he tried to liberate himself from his situation. Failing and failing until finally, he failed no more.

Crawling onto a shattered wagon which still had a single horse strapped to it. His final salvation and means back to civilization. Sleep claimed him as the horse took him from death to life like an aberration of fate.