Pointless RP

[Beatrix]

[A Fight for Her People and for Her Purity]
They had came without warning. Dark figures swooped into the village, killing some, capturing others, destroying everything. The flames rose high into the sky as women and children wailed, while the men were biting back tears to appear strong to their families, but on the inside, their souls matched the same wail as the rest of them, for they knew that resistance was futile. The Dark Overlord himself rode in. The ones that were still alive were put in shackles and chained together and were forced to march out of their homes. Only one person was not a citizen of the village.

She kept her head low and her cowl lower, her dark eyes darting from side to side, surprised that no one had even brought up who she was, and for that she was grateful. But within herself, she knew she would be found out simply because of her dress. She marched side by side with her subjects and followers, feeling the pain they felt with every cry and sniffle from all around her. While she wanted to scream out herself, she remained silent. They marched hard that day, many of them fighting to stay upright when they had been called to rest. She kneeled down in her place where they were directed to, keeping her hands infront of her balled in fists and her head down.

She had fought with herself to keep her rage and emotions in check, but she knew not how long that would last. Her fair hands were balled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of the palm of her hand. It was not fair to the people that lived there. They were happy and free, only to see her there about the rains and the crops and asking for a blessing from her. She had helped usher everyone inside when she saw the dark cloud approached, but she knew that there was nothing that she could do to protect them from what was coming. There was nothing she could do to protect herself, yet, despite the fact that they look up to her for everything, they were all protecting her in their own way.

Silently she prayed, trying to keep her tears from escaping, for she was scared for her people. She saw boots approaching that appeared to be of much better quality than the rest. She caught a silent gasp as she realized who it was, and seemed to ask for her personally. To his tent. As he walked off, his soldiers removed the chains from around her wrists, but bound them once more with a course rope. She kept her head down. She wouldn't struggle here, oh no. Not before entering the tent. The people of the village seemed to wail towards her, while one screamed a shrill scream in fear for her. She kept her head lowered and away from the cries of her people and walked on, being led by the soldiers.

When the soldiers presented her and left the tent, she looked up, though her hood still provided shade to her face. Fire and passion burned in her eyes for her people, wanting nothing more than to help free them from his grasp. He asked her who she was, and her response was something that did not require words: she spat on the ground of his tent. He grabbed her roughly at her arm and pulled her towards him, her hood falling back to reveal the full radiance of her raven black hair, midnight blue eyes, pale skin, the sharp features of the elves, and a mythril and gold intertwining wires around her head, showing her station of royalty. She tried to rip her arm away from him, but he was too strong.

He was stunned, falling to his knee, almost bringing her down with him as he still had a firm gasp on her arm. She knew not what had happened, but seized the opportunity that had presented itself before her. She reached with her free arm and pulled the dagger from his belt and slashed at his throat, but he recovered too quickly and caused her to miss and slice his cheek open with a thin line of blood. She tried for a second strike but she found herself airborn as he lifted her up and tossed her away to the corner of the tent. She landed on her back, but had no time to ready the dagger to plunge into his chest. He was quickly upon her and won the fight in obtaining the dagger from her grasp. Now weaponless, she did the only things she could think of. She tried using her legs to get at whatever soft spot that he had and carefully aimed her next shot of saliva at his eye, hoping to distract him enough to get out from under him. The only thing worse than death she could think of was to be the plaything of the Dark Overlord, the person next to the god of darkness himself.

[Vain]

The Black Knight shoved his pommel into the back of the bound form in front of him as he entered the camp of tents set up by his lord, returning from his latest mission. He'd gone to an outlying village where reports of a man of righteousness and integrity had been reported. Upon arriving he found a man in shining armor who immediately recognized the dark general and drew his sword to strike at him. Needless to say the Black Knight quickly dispatched the man's sword with his own and before the White Knight knew what hit him he was bond and gagged like some sparkling package.

As the general entered the camp he was flanked by a contingent of Dark Knights who fell into step behind him. It was a security measure in case the White Knight tried to escape though that was quite impossible. However, the general knew enough of the world to have seen the impossible happen and he would not relax his guard. The people of the camp parted around his guard as he advanced through the streets as if suddenly terrified at his presence. Though his face held no expression his abyssal eyes held a spark of amusement.

The Dark General searched the camp with his mind to locate the Dark Overlord and when pinpointed he was slightly worried when he found the dark lords thoughts shielded. He pushed his package faster as he wound his way through the path of tents to find the one his liege occupied. He left the White Knight with his guards and entered the tent as the Dark Knights guarding glanced at each other with a worried expression on their face at his breach of normal protocol. However unlike the rest of the rabble the general did not fear the lords wrath.

Upon entering the tent his dark orbs beheld his struggle with the maiden in the corner and took in the blood on the Dark Overlords cheek. However rather than be alarmed he merely processed the information and made his presence known.

"This some kind of new roleplaying thing with your concubines my friend or do you require assistance?" the Dark General asked nonchalantly. Anyone else would not have dared to address the man thusly, but the two had long ago come to an understanding and held a rather unique kinship.

[Genghismike]

After a moment of scuffling, he managed to subdue the woman once more and pinned her arms down with his own, one of his knees driven into her hip. He had tossed the dagger to the side, out of the way. And when she prepared to spit at him once more, he was ready for it, and with a simple thought, altered the currents of the air around him, solidifying the mass of molecules to swiftly divert the path of the saliva away from his face. He wasn't often one to be taken unawares.

For a moment, he simply regarded her with his dark eyed gaze, noticing the mythril circlet and what it meant. She was indeed more than a simple Priestess, she was the High Priestess of the Order of Light, as well as one of the Princesses. Certainly that made her quite a prize. He would certainly enjoy this one.

After a moment, he realized that he wasn't alone in the tent with the woman anymore. Certainly her presence was making him careless and he still wondered why he had seen the vision he had mere moments before. As the General spoke, a slight smile curled at the corner of his lips, and he shook his head. "No, no assistance with this one, my friend, though you are more than welcome to any of the others." He jerked the woman to her feet, then tossed her to the side onto the cot. "Stay there, and keep still, unless you want your people to die," he murmered, the warning evident in his tone. He wouldn't hesitate to slay the lot of them. More could be attained, and he had already made his message clear with what he had done to the village. The slaves were simply a bonus.

He turned, and regarded the general for a moment before clasping arms with him. "I trust your endeavors went well, General?" he asked, arching a pale brow. They needed a reason to lure the forces of Light out of the stalemate which they found themselves in, and the Overlord found that the best methods of warefare often lie with baiting the enemy into attacking first. This would be the first of many assaults against the Light, and even now he had other small forces making various swift strikes across the borders of the enemy.

[Vain]

"You could say that. I come baring a gift," the general said with a smirk and making a gesture towards the tent flaps. At his gesture the Dark Knights waiting outside pushed the captured knight through the tent flaps and into the tent. The captives eyes went wide when he saw the company he was in and turned to run. However, Raven was ready for this and with a thought contained the main in a psychic bubble. He left the knight enough room to squirm, but not enough to make any significant movements. A cold smile crossed the general's lips. He liked to watch the mortals squirm.

"I hope you like him. I even wrapped him up for you. I know how you like to play with them before you kill them," the general said as if only the two were present and he weren't suggesting torture for the captive.

[Genghismike]

His mind dwelling back to the events which had recently occurred, the Dark Overlord found himself lost in thought, pondering the meaning of the events which had transpired. It had seemed yet so long ago, in such a far distant place, and suddenly everything seemed to drop away. His lack of presence had a tendency to displace him from the world, pulling his mind back from the events that happened around him as though he were viewing the world from beyond his body, an ethereal presence which remained unconcerned with even the most important of matters. It was one of his 'moods' where people would wonder what had happened to him, and he'd snap out of his reverie simply to order someone to be executed, or some plaything brought to him for his amusement.

He stood from the overly large and ornate chair which sat behind a massive oak desk, and moved towards the massive windows which took up most of one wall in his study. The rest of the walls in the room were lined with shelves stacked with orderly rows of books, scrolls, tomes, various ancient Grimoires, and numerous other things which he deemed important or which otherwise caught his fancy. His hands clasped behind his back, he gazed out the massive windows towards the city which spread out before his view. The Capital, such a dreary place. He couldn't see beyond the city walls, but he knew what lay out there. Despite the Oasis which the Capital had been made near, the lands which spread out beyond it were barren and lifeless, a massive desert and rocky wasteland of nothingness. He found it ironic that despite the constant rains, nothing would grow here. The land was infertile, and only the hardiest of shrubs and plants would survive the torments of the land.

It helped, though, to cultivate the hardiest of warriors. The Dark Knights trained here in this hostile territory, molding them into the elite which could withstand the elements which nature threw at them. He knew, though, that they wouldn't be able to tolerate colder climates. As a tactician, he knew of the follies marching north in the winter would make. He'd not suffer a massive loss of that magnitude. But likewise, so too would anyone marching against him find in the summer find that the terrain of pointless was inhospitable, and they'd find crushing losses in the march alone.

He paced back and forth before the windows, feeling like a caged animal. He needed to march out his armies. The minor skirmishes and assaults against his enemies weren't enough to keep his troops contained for an extended amount of time. They, too, longed for battle and glory, and the spoils that would come with it. "Soon," he said aloud to himself, absorbed in thoughts of splendor and glory that would come from victory.