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Post subject: Mirith vanguard ransacked!
 Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 06:03 AM
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Royalty
Joined: Dec 19, 2009
Posts: 1509
Status: Offline
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Dracilus was leisurely talking at the bank with friends Jaer, serancha, Rinne and Chloe, when Borti came running up the steps. Confused, he told the group that along the road, he had taken a wrong turn, and discovered the Mirith Vanguard to be overrun with brigands and mercenaries - The black hand had struck again, this time, closer to home. The guards had quickly been killed, and impaled on spikes in much the same manner as Lizard men do. Dracilus and Chloe rushed out to the scene, to be met by Hacton, who immediately followed. Not far behind was Serancha, and soon all 4 were taking in the gruesome sight. The entrance had been barricaded with maralian wood, and none could get it down.
the next to arrive on scene were Alexia, Kookai, Borti himself, Gilante and Tagora. With everyone banging against the wall, Dracilus found himself drifting in to daydreams. He was woken up when the barricade was knocked down. Too late to do anything, he was quickly slain by the masses of brigands flooding about him, alongside Tagora. it was lucky for the two that the temple's stable and temple were run seperate to the guild itself, and therefore were still operational, and so dracilus revived himself and lured away the brigands for Tagora to revive, before dracilus entered the grey once more.
It was not for long, however, as the main group re-arrived, with re-inforcements. By this time Yonatan, Jun, Lynlyss, Alysandra and Fanto had arrived and helped the group to clear out the small army of brigands in wait. Borti had also survived, skillfully camouflaging himself from 6 armed brigands. As the two were brought back to the world, the group had accumulated at the entrance, where, slowly but surely, they lured brigands out and slew them before they could run innside. The guild's magic still warded it, and no non-MV member could get inside, however they did not need to.
Crom arrived on scene, just as the last brigand stood alone in the bloodied hall. All everyone could do was watch as he exclaimed "You'll never catch me!", and proceeded to commit suicide.
The party made haste to inform Iceane of the events, but that would come later, after everyone had considered the events. The black hand has come almost right to the very doorstep of mirith. This is what worries us most. Let us hope we have not let our guard down when, if they do, which they almost certainly will try to, strike mirith. |
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Dracilus:Insane until proven crazy.
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 06:11 AM
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Respectable
Joined: Jul 12, 2011
Posts: 159
Location: Right behind you
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| Additional pictures, which I had a chance to draw while trapped and hidden... |
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CLERICS: can't live with them, can't live without them.
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 07:16 AM
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Honorable
Joined: Apr 09, 2007
Posts: 337
Status: Offline
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Enraged and in disbelief, Lord Amere made what seemed a much longer walk from Mirith to his guild hall. He was unable to comprehend how all of his guards, the guards whom he had trained individually, were now dead. Two of his finest being impaled by long spears sticking out of the ground. Hearing the news that his Guild Hall, his second home, had been pillaged struck close his heart.
Earlier that day, Amere had gone to visit the Token Master near Skull Island. On his return he had run into two Brigands near Mirith. He tortured them all he could in order to get information out of them, but they were trained well so he took their heads. He thought little of it, Brigands were often seen scouting near Mirith. It wasn't until after he had returned to his hall that he realized he should have been more cautious. That mistake Amere assured himself he would not make again.
As far as he could tell nothing had been taken from the chests, but it had been many moons since anyone had taken inventory. All the weapons remained, as well as the robes and reagents. At first, he was pleased nothing was taken. However, as time progressed, it made him feel uneasy. Why in the name of Elara would they invade his hall without attempting to steal anything? The only answer he could think of was intimidation; he wondered if this was foreshadowing of what was to come. Would they attempt to invade Mirith next?
Not if he had anything to say about it. |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 07:06 PM
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Honorable
Joined: Jun 06, 2011
Posts: 414
Status: Offline
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To Commander Nasrith, Lord Amere, Lady Cassandra, Emperor Iceane and all the Mirith Vanguard,
It is with shock and dismay that I learn of the tragedy that befell your brave guards. The atrocity perpetrated is exactly the same as was inflicted on our own brave guardsmen last year. I see my fellow armsman, friend and confessor Borti II has repaid our debt of gratitude to Lady Cassandra for her help that woeful day.
With all the forts and sporadic attacks recently there can be little doubt that this is the work of the Black Hand. It is a reminder, if any were needed, that we must stand together in this hour of need - vanguards, guilds and private citizens alike. There can be no political games when faced with such a foe, and all past grievances must be set aside. You should know that we stand steadfast beside you, and shall deploy what force we have to bring pitiless justice to our mutual foe.
Death to the Black Hand!
Yours with deepest sympathy,
Armsman Octar |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 07:56 PM
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Royalty
Joined: Feb 13, 2007
Posts: 1617
Location: An igloo with highspeed internet, but no plumbing, in Canada. Eh?
Status: Offline
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Barzul, Iceane swore, as the messenger Lord Amere sent headed towards the door. Iceane's oath made the twitchy messenger look back in fear as he left the room, but Iceane cared not. He did not often partake in foul language, especially in ones said in the land he lived in many decades ago, but he cared not about that now.
Iceane paced his private library, contemplating the situation. It had been long since he had been able to go out of the city walls, due to an injury that was taking longer to heal than usual. He had to rely on reports all too often nowadays from travelers much younger and nimbler than himself, due to his condition. It pained him that he was unable to go out and protect the building he had cared for for many, many years. He was heartened though, to know that the valiant warriors of Oberin, regardless of their political differences, and personal biases towards Mirith and her Vanguard, were willing to set their opinions aside and help a group which, Iceane grimly acknowledged, was not as active as it had once been.
Perhaps this will be the catalyst to our return.
I won't bet on it, but I can hope, at least.
Iceane rose from his sitting position, and slowly worked his body towards the door. From there, he hobbled on towards the noticeboard at the Mirith bank, refusing to let his body release the groans of pain it longed to let out.
The old man looked around at the countless faces of ones much younger than him, looking at him with fear and awe in their hearts.
They were afraid. They were afraid, likes ones who are afraid of an ancient, elder tiger, when it has been risen from the past it lives in, to strike out at a world that needs to be disciplined. They were afraid, for the Black Hand, or whatever foodhardy group initiated this mistake.
For it was not just a building and its guards they attacked, nor Mirith, nay, not even His Majesty The King. It was an attack on a mindset. An attack on an entity.
An attack on a family, who through many different generations of brave Mirithians, had gone through heaven and hell together, and though at the moment are week in numbers and in body, are stronger in mind and in spirit than they have ever been.
They attacked a family of ancient beings, and that family is called The Mirith Vanguard.
And whether it be tomorrow, next moon, next year, or five years from now, the attackers will pay for their attack on a family, that yet is currently very far apart, could never be closer in their hearts.
And Iceane was damn proud of that family.
The old man reached into his robe pocket, for he had chosen to go out in the garb of his regiment, and withdrew a piece of sturdy parchment, and attached it to the noticeboard with a tired, scarred hand. Due to fatigue, he had made his message short, and to the point. As he finished pinning it down, he looked to his left, and saw the hard face of his friend, and basically brother, Amere. His face was full of resoluteness. He nodded with approval at Iceane.
He sighed, nodded, and joined Amere's side, as travelers, merchants, and heroes all, read the message written by the one they sometimes call "Emperor".
Hail, Mirithians, and travelers to this great city from near afar!
You are welcome in the walls of Mirith.
Please be aware that in the past moon, adventurers from throughout the land have had many an encounter with treacherous brigands, mercenaries, and other scum this land unfortunately has to deal with. As you may know, recently, one of the most heinous, if not the most, attack was done by these villains: on the garrison and sanctuary of The Mirith Vanguard.
The Vanguard firstly please asks for your respect and support when it comes to this attack, if for the only reason of the death of the fine, brave Mirithians who were trained and assigned to guarding the domain and treasures of the Vanguard. The Vanguard holds these men's memory in the highest honour, and their families have our deepest condolences.
My second main point is I wish to thoroughly and reverently thank each and every one of the brave men and women who went to assist those who rid our beloved hall of these brutes. Though none of our regiment were able to be there, for a variety of reasons, that does not diminish our thankfulness. We are in your debt, and will be more than happy to buy you all the ale you can stomach.
Again, I thank all those who came to the defensive and aid of our Vanguard hall a great deal, and I respect you all immensely. The blood of yours that was spilled will not be forgotten.
This may not be the end, or the worst of the attacks from these fiends though. So I urge you, Mirithians and all, to keep on alert for these brutes, and give them the punishment you and I know they deserve.
May your swords stay sharp, and your herbs stay green.
Long live the King!
Signed, under the authority and blessing bestowed upon by the great commanders, Nasrith and Asliendor,
Lord Iceane |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 03, 2012 - 10:19 PM
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Honorable
Joined: Jun 06, 2011
Posts: 414
Status: Offline
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| Octar and Borti went to pay their respects to the dead. To their horror, the desecrated bodies of the guards remained impaled. Octar tried to move them, to allow a decent burial, but they remained transfixed as if by an immovable force. Borti blessed their mortal remains, and the pair uttered a few prayers to the Goddess. Then they trudged off silently, hoping that the Mirith Vanguard would find some way to break the black spell that held their poor guards in such a pitiful state. |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 04, 2012 - 08:15 AM
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Royalty
Joined: Mar 18, 2008
Posts: 2144
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"It is the Vanguard you serve, not the King. If the Vanguard chooses to serve the King, you shall do it, for you must. But if the Vanguard chooses otherwise, they shall have your strength and wisdom to follow the hard path of rebellion."
Visits are dangerous, and she knew it. The words stringed in her thoughts felt empty, as if a justification was needed to come back to Mirith. Only a few days before, at the call of Octar in the north, she had travelled to Andris to help bringing down some fort or another. The work of the Black Hand, probably. No longer wood, but large blocks of stone carefully aligned in thick walls. What did that matter now? She knew what answering the call of the fighter meant. Homesickness. Regrets. A familiar feeling of hope above the grudge of wounds still fresh. The smell of ash coming from her hands again. The glance that she could not avoid, in the middle of the battle, at every new man covered in armour that arrived. Would that be Amere? Would that arrow come from Sophina's bow? And the clerics? Would they be standing shoulder to shoulder with her, dressed in blue, always trustworthy?
It was still too soon. She was not ready to return. She was not ready to give her insignia back either, not this time. "It is the Vanguard you serve. Your oath was to your companions. Your pact was with Nasrith, and no other. You remember the conditions." Yet, she could not go back to Mirith. She could not tell her citizens that now, more than ever, she had no trust on their rulers, that she did not care for the health of their king (long live the old sod!), that the only thing that would bring her back would be that deep, unbreakable bond of friendship she had for the Vanguard. Who would have said that they would grow in her that way? "The well-being of all Oberin." Yes, of course, there was that. For the well-being of Oberin, however, there was no need to wear a uniform. And the uniform was now what was preventing her from meeting her closest friends once again.
She would have returned to her place of exile if it wasn't for that letter. Octar, once again working as some trigger of fate, warning them of an attack to the hall. A letter addressed to herself, Nasrith, Amere, Iceane. "There is really no one left, is there?" Even seeing her name at the top of the parchment felt strange. She could only attribute it to the Maralian's stubbornness, not taking a "no, never again" as an answer. A providential letter, bringing sad news, but giving her the reason to run home, if she could finally call Mirith that. She did not pack - there was nothing to bring - and ran to the portal.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid! What are you doing here?" The crowd at the bank was excited. A necromancer had been defeated, new warriors had had their christening of blood, a cleric was debuting that night. In their faces, the pride of a battle that had turned out well. "I wonder how will they face defeat, when they meet it." How did she face defeat? With exile? Too proud to see her friends, or too weak to die for things and just vanish forever? The cold touch of iron brought her back from the world of unanswerable questions. Amere, the great Amere, Amere the beautiful hugged her, without a word at first. She had not even seen him approaching, shining as always in his polished plate. All was forgotten, for the moment being. All other voices were muted to her ears, when his words finally poured forth. He had grown up, her friend, more charming than ever. In no time, they were making jokes about Majara, laughing at Iceane's belief in the afterlife, promising to meet again very soon, to travel somewhere for a big adventure, just like they used to love. Only the deaths of the hall guards was clouding their reencounter. Such pointless deathsÖ
"How am I going to tell him that I am not back yet?" she thought, when the fighter eventually had to leave. "You know where to find me", she said instead, certain that at least that was true. The debuting cleric, who had in the meanwhile joined their conversation, exchanged a few more sentences with her. Her mind was already somewhere else, counting the change for the Inn. It seemed better to stay with Opal than to take a bed in the hall. It was still too soon. It was still too soon.
She could not tell how things happened next. Everything was too fast. A cry of alarm. The quiet voice of the cleric trying to catch her attention. The crowd leaving the bank at once. "The MV hall was attacked" someone said. Her brain did not register it. Those were certainly old news being told to an adventurer or another who had been away. "The MV hall was attacked. Now! You must come." Someone else had already had the time to scout there and back. A note. A note that she heard second-hand first, and that she would read later at the hall. "This is what happens when you become lax in your duties." How did they dare?
Cursing herself, cursing the Black Hand, cursing Mirith, cursing the king, cursing the moon and the goddess, cursing everything that moved and all the immovable things, she walked alone to the Vanguard's headquarters. There, next to the dead bodies of a new team of guards she did not even have the chance to meet, a small group awaited her, to offer their help. A bunch of barely known names, who had paid more attention to what had just happened than the wizard whose duty was supposedly to defend her own hall. Irony of all ironies, they were from the other Vanguard, the one from Marali. The only other place on earth towards which she had ever felt the same sort of loyalty that she had for Nasrith's men. "Consider yourself lucky, you melodramatic idiot. At least you have two places filled with people you care for."
A bigger group awaited behind a large rock. She could hardly tell their faces, seeing everything red with her eyes filled with anger. On the other side of the rock, a wooden fort hosting dozens of mercenaries and brigands. From the breaches, it was possible to spot a chest, guarded by a giant. "What was this for? How much are two impaled guards worth for these savages?" She turned around trying to force herself back to the common sense that would permit to count the force and judge their odds. "We have only one cleric," someone warned. From the shadow near a tree, she saw a glimpse of a familiar purple robe. "Cyric. I know how he fights." That would do. With a cry, she advanced to the front of the fortress, followed by the rest. An impulse of foolishness that could have cost them dear. The same foolishness that, one second later, was making her shout at the mercenaries to come and face them.
They were many. Their breath reeked of alcohol as the first group charged against her. "You didn't grow any smarter, did you?" she thought, luring the thugs in a close circle to give time for her companions to form a line of defence. But soon the exhalation of a faster runner right behind her neck, her body fighting to release his grip, made her curse herself once again for being so imprudent. It was only the sound of a dagger thrust into her enemy's back that reassured her. Cyric. Cyric had caught him, just as she should have known he would do. She was not alone, she was fighting in a group again, being watched by a brave Borti II at every turn. As more friends arrived from Mirith, she knew were her place was, paralysing the foes for the fighters, finishing off the wounded brigands with merciful lightning bolts (although morbidly satisfying at the time), doing her best to make sure, at every brief pause to catch breath and prepare the next incantation, that she would remember every single soul at the fight in order to thank them properly later on.
Several times she thought that the fight was over, when a new group of mercenaries would advance to the front, from every side. Several times she thought that the fight was lost, when she saw her people falling to the ground, badly hurt. Experience and cold blood, however, proved to be the group's trump. Eventually, the fort was taken, leaving a pool of dark blood under their feet. And a chest. A chest filled with rum.
The thought that all those lives were lost because a gang of brigands had fancied to have a party near Mirith infuriated her. She could not believe it. She could not hear whether anything else of relevance had been found or not, even if the people around her were agreeing to return to the bank to share the spoils. Rum, that was what the lives of the guards were worth. And for the sake of a little jab against the Vanguard, on whom none of those illiterate barbarians had any information, and that felt so utterly unfair for someone who knew the whole story. "Lax in your duties", if only things would be that simple to make a whole group of otherwise constant guardians of Mirith feel that they had to leave their own town.
She had to bury them. She had to bury bodies that she had never seen alive, to talk to wives she had never met, to console children that would hate the Vanguard for being the cause of their fathers' deaths. "You probably want to be left alone" suggested Nial, meeting her on the way back to the hall. That was the last thing she wanted at that moment. Too shy to cry on the ranger's shoulder, she told him that his help was welcome, if he wished to performed the final rites with her. With him came the rest of the Marali Vanguard, who took over the gruesome task of bringing down the impaled corpses. Tagora, had Tagora joined the MaV yet? Octar, Borti II, Nial. The same group with which she had started. Vanguard with Vanguard, burying the other's dead. A scene that was risking to become oddly common. Once the bodies were down, the sight of a lump of burnt flesh was too much for her. The wizard fainted.
When she woke up, they were gone. Only Nial remained by her side, assuring her that his companions had taken care of the rites. A kind word, a smile, a gentle push towards Mirith, where she had, after all, a duty to fulfil. She, who had failed to protect those guards and the ones before them. Now, she would at least have to bring the news to the castle.
The coldness of Mattias did not surprise her. Without waiting for his answer, she left him a note for Ciddia Tigg. That the guards had been killed again, that maybe they should not be replaced. The Vanguard could not cause the death of another team in a row, for such futile reasons. That maybe the Vanguard should assume the responsibility of guarding their own property. "Or change their goals altogether", she thought but did not say. "I would not be surprised if these provocations to discredit the MV came from the inside, to weaken Mirith's defences". The words of Valerquez ringing once again in her ears, after so long. "The Twins have the cloak. They are here". Except that the Twins seemed not to count much anymore, and the cloak could have changed hands in the meanwhile. |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jan 06, 2012 - 12:06 AM
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Noble
Joined: Jan 29, 2008
Posts: 680
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Scene: Some hut, located somewhere unknown to others. Sumac, Akunin, and Farookh sit around a table discussing the plans of the Foehan Underground, while sharing a bottle of whiskey. Suddenly, there comes a rapping, as if someone not so gently tapping, tapping at the hut's doorÖ
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* Rap. Rap. Rap. *
"It's open," the trio said in unison. In walked Abadonna, whose arrival went unacknowledged. "Good to see you, too," he mumbled. "I have some news that the three of you will find interesting."
The three conspirators stopped talking and turned their attention to Abadonna.
"The Mirith Vanguard, it was ransacked by the Black Hand."
Everyone turned their eyes to Sumac to see his reaction. A smile had already crept across the lips. "The Mirith VanguardÖ ransacked. Ha," he said in mocked disbelief. "Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."
Both Akunin and Farookh began to laugh too, not so much at the fate suffered by the Mirith Vanguard, but at the Sumac's unadulterated schandenfreude. However, Abadonna did not share in his brother's joy, frowning at the response of his brother and comrades.
"Come, Abadonna, why do not share in your brother's joy? What is wrong? For being such a libertine, you are quite the prig sometimes," admonished Akunin.
"Relax, my friend," added Farookh. "Surely, this cannot come as a shock to any sane person. For too long the vanguard stared into the mirror, admiring themselves, only to become paralytically entranced by their self-reverence. Feel no pity."
"I might find it humorous if it were not for the fate suffered by the guards. The Black Hand killed and impaled them both," explained Abadonna.
"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Akunin. "Even their guards grew complacent. They only have themselves to blame."
Akunin's objection aside, Abadonna's comment was enough to mute the laughter, but did little to squelch the overall sense of joy felt by the others, especially that felt by Sumac. To be sure, the fate suffered by the Mirith Vanguard went far to validate his disdain for the vanguard's role in the decline of the Mirith Empire and what he felt to be an egregious dereliction of duty.
Sumac signaled to his brother to sit, and poured him a shot. After a few rounds of drinks, Sumac's countenance became serious. "I am no fool. I realize that the attack will likely do little to change the mind of others regarding the king. In fact, it might even earn him some sympathy bourn out of pity. Moreover, people cannot resist the urge to prove their loyalty, even if misplaced and undeserved. We must remain diligent."
"Hear! Hear!" said Farookh.
"And here we sit with our clarity of thought--one afforded by this fine whiskey, hehe," said Sumac, "and the others with their blind loyalty. Let us see which of us the fates will favor." |
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