"They never told us what to expect, so I imagined we would-be knights. I saw it as clear as day, our shiny plate armor, our swords that had names, and the look that our fellow soldiers would bestow upon us as we arrived upon the battlements. It was an incredible sight to envision for that young Saldonian mage, who had just crossed the Land of Whispers, to hold. Back then, I had faith, faith in my leader, faith in my commander, and faith in the impossible fact that the will of a nation united had held back the unbeatable. Back then, I had my faith, and now I do not. How could you have faith if you've seen what I've seen?
They never told us that our enemy wielded beasts with skins of steel, or that their soldiers were all covered in plate, or that their archers could fire without reloading, or that our mages would be hunted and caged. Never were we told that we were fighting an enemy who had a deep hatred for my kind, a resentment born into their magicless souls. They break easily enough. However, the armor they wear is shoddy, and the imperfections baked in make them walking metal coffins when the battle starts.
They tell us to hold our faith in our cause. How can I have faith if I've seen the things that I have seen? In the bodies, I have created? How can I hold onto my hope in a land of death and despair? I can't; how could I? When they bring their monsters of war that kill us with their heavy bolts. Or when they send their monsters of the sky who drop fire on our positions.
I have seen my friends disappear into a mist of red in front of me, walls crumble around, and whole sections of our army obliterated in an instant. We are still told to keep our faith. Our leaders sit safe, across the Land of Whispers, behind their thick walls and up in their tall castles and dare to tell us to keep the faith.
Faith is an addiction, and I will be dependant on it no longer.
It has been a week since our walls lit up the countryside. We lost friends in the days that have followed our retreat, and we are down to only a few now. I will attempt to lead them across our enemies barren lands back home through a hidden passage. I hold no faith in our ability to win the war, but I know that they do, and I must protect them all the same."
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They never told us that our enemy wielded beasts with skins of steel, or that their soldiers were all covered in plate, or that their archers could fire without reloading, or that our mages would be hunted and caged. Never were we told that we were fighting an enemy who had a deep hatred for my kind, a resentment born into their magicless souls. They break easily enough. However, the armor they wear is shoddy, and the imperfections baked in make them walking metal coffins when the battle starts.
They tell us to hold our faith in our cause. How can I have faith if I've seen the things that I have seen? In the bodies, I have created? How can I hold onto my hope in a land of death and despair? I can't; how could I? When they bring their monsters of war that kill us with their heavy bolts. Or when they send their monsters of the sky who drop fire on our positions.
I have seen my friends disappear into a mist of red in front of me, walls crumble around, and whole sections of our army obliterated in an instant. We are still told to keep our faith. Our leaders sit safe, across the Land of Whispers, behind their thick walls and up in their tall castles and dare to tell us to keep the faith.
Faith is an addiction, and I will be dependant on it no longer.
It has been a week since our walls lit up the countryside. We lost friends in the days that have followed our retreat, and we are down to only a few now. I will attempt to lead them across our enemies barren lands back home through a hidden passage. I hold no faith in our ability to win the war, but I know that they do, and I must protect them all the same."
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The Basic idea for this story:
Setting for the story:
Enemies:
How magic works in this RP
Nations:
Rules:
If you have any questions just let me know!
