Welcome, glad you're here. Today I've got what might be a small chain of Rp's. Little bit of background info. Alyssa Kingsley and Nemean have been exchanging some letters. She is a young knight much like Nemean is but she's on the other side of the great war as him and has been quite vocal about her idea's on warfare. Especially about how she think he does things the wrong way.
So here they meet, on a battlefield where both their sides were supposed to fight one another but instead both fought side by side, that's a stretch, against a third enemy. Enjoy!
Facing Grave Danger, Together
Today was a good day. The wind tugged gently on the cornucopia of banners ranging from the northern most realms all the way to those that hugged the southern coast. For the very first time in his life and probably for all the other nobles present likewise, they all fought on the same side. Nudging his steed on with his knees Nemean drank in the scene. While it wasn't quite as idyllic as he described it to himself in his mind, it would nevertheless be a sight to remember.
A lush field in Moyale, that most fertile of the midlands hosted a very unequal trio. On one side there was the nothern host. Comprising of bannermen and warriors from far flung realms such as Sirion, Caligus, Eponllyn Nivemus and even Shadowdale. Not a little bit suspicious and laden with bucked-loads of paranoia they eyed the southern host, which had deployed right next to them. Like a very impressive flank. It made him grin to see the two armies so uneasy yet so close.
The swordbrethren, marksmen and riders of the realms of Perdan, Perleone, Vix Tiramora and the brusque Sydgard were right there. Not an apple's throw away. And they weren't attacking one another. No, the reason they didn't was because of an even greater threat. War or no war, there was a matter so important it would even transcend such petty conflicts as total annihilation between entire realms. ''What could it be?'' Nemean mockingly mused to himself as he turned his gaze to this gravest of threats.
Lo and behold, just down the field of the two giant armies there stood a rabble of peasants. Brandishing pitchforks, scythes and even wooden mallets. A stray black cat hisses most ferociously as it alternates between rubbing its supple body along the raggedly clothed legs of working men and casting death-glares at the pompous nobles its human servants face.
At some unspoken signal both armies began to come alive. Finding his place among the cavalry Nemean looked over at the southern host as he tried to spy out a particular and specific banner. ''Funny how she wanted me to stand under a white banner.'' The words formed and came from him as his eyes caught sight of the Wolf banner of House Kingsley. There was little time to ponder the matter as the order to advance was given. Comical. Four hundred peasants opposed them, The Lord of Lorient, Lord Samuel II of Perdan alone could handle that bunch. His men wouldn't even remotely venture into danger. Nemean shrugged and signaled his captain, a quite beguiling woman that went by the name of Jacinta, to advance as well.
The infantry moved like a wall, the cavalry trotted behind them occasionally laughing at their situation and before anything could really happen, the peasants experienced a hail not quite of ice but of steel. A morbid spectacle where flailing arms and masks of terror was all the peasants really offered before they were slammed against the ground with arrows made for war.
As the affair was over rather swiftly, Nemean turned his mount towards the Southern Host. A marshal called out to him, to not break formation. At which Nemean called out that the dangerous foe had already been beaten. ''Piss off''. He left behind him a rather baffled Marshal.
As he approached he felt rather conscious of his vulnerability. The spears gleamed a little brighter in the light of the early morning sun. The shields puffed up like a strongman's chest inhaling a great gulp of air and the eyes. So many eyes followed his every movement. Not wanting to tempt fate he remained in the saddle and simply called out when he felt close enough to the White banner of House Kingsley. Said distance became precariously diminished as he caught sight of her. A fierce and resolute expressed made soft by finely chiseled lines that made up the contours of her exquisite face. Topped with a pragmatic yet labyrinthine crown of golden white braids which barely hid small and round ears.
''Lady in pink!'' The words instantly made him grin. ''Now I know why you wanted me to come to you under a white banner! To match your own!'' The jest invigorated him with bravado. A thought about the recently slain peasants snuck into his mind but he decided against it. ''As you said! People dance and laugh and pray. They have things they love and cherish and today, you make me smile!''
As his steed pawed the ground displaying thick bands of muscle under a dark coat of fur, Nemean wondered how much longer his welcome would stretch. Venturing a few more moments he wanted to see if the beauty would respond and if she did, with what.
