BellBottomBlues

Condemned

Lanik had eyes still on the map as the two officers relayed their respective intel. So many obstacles.. . variables. The weather, enemy soldiers, supplies, mission pacing, and the terrain. It would be dangerous, no question about it. But there was something in Lanik that thrived for this type of analytical problem-solving. Even from a young boy he would always be solving little puzzles and equations he could scrounge up from father's old text books. Variables like that were no different than what he was doing now. There was a problem and the next step was to decide exactly what was the best way to approach it. And he had already decided. The mission was thus as broken down in his mind:

- infiltrate the elvish mountain garrison and relay strategic information to Imperium commanding officers.
- if possible capture elven authority as suggested by the spike in forces in that particular area.
- come back to Marië alive.

He was already prioritizing this as a reconnaissance mission. If Lanik could get a good idea of an entry point and its surrounding area then Imperial forces would be able to do the brunt of the work assaulting the walls. Though, it he would have to insert through the wall from a purely terrain exploit and see how it could be altered so ground forces could make a push through. He smiled to himself. He had to admit, it had been awhile since he'd been able to do anything exciting. He would be the eyes of the greatest combat campaign the Imperium had ever embarked on. The pressure was there, but Lanik had enough confidence in his abilities to see it complete.

Durvain.

The captain made a mental note. Odd, he had never heard of Imperial forces encountering an enemy that employed the use of technical weapons in the field. He had learned about such uses during his education at the Carpenter's Guild, but such ideas were usually left only to schematics and drawings and never got to see tangible result. He'll have to be wary. Captain Wintergate straightened, looking too all the officers before departing.

"I have all the information I need," he bowed his head slightly, "Excuse my dismissal, but there's preparation to be done. Lieutenant Rayne will be in command of the Covenant during my absence. Refer to him for field requests,"

And with a sharp salute Lanik moved on.

He left the three with a feeling of unease. They were all officers sure... but Lanik couldn't help but feel a certain disconnect between their command character and his own. He could sense their patriotism, an unwavering dedication to draw blood for their country and country-men. Sure, Lanik would lay his life on the line for any of his Wintergate brethren, but for just any Imperial citizen? That was a stretch even just to think about. He did not see the pride in the arbitrary slaughter of entire nations for sake of patriotism. So why was he still here? Wintergate had always served the King honorably. Maybe that's why he stayed. The King gave Lanik problems to solve, and in turn Lanik would solve them. That fact, coupled with the tradition and relationship Lord Wintergate had nurtured between himself and the King must be the reason. Maybe that was oversimplifying things, but Lanik had always been a simple man.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Captain Wintergate back to form from the cold, Northern mountains?" Lanik strolling through the camp heard a voice beside him. He looked over.

"Darian?" Lanik grinned, "You're not so little anymore,"

His blonde brother was leaning up against one of the buildings, shirtless, with a chalice in one hand a sword in the other and lips stained with blood. His brother was beaming as he approached, arms open, embracing Lanik with a hug and kissing him promptly on one cheek. It had been six months since Lanik had last saw Darian... or even communicated with him at all, strangely enough.

"No ser, the battlefield changes a man, as you've told me before," he took a swig from the chalice, a thin trail of red seeping from the corner of his mouth and down his defined chin, "But, the Imperium facing its greatest foe yet is day by day taking ground. And I, yours truly," he gave an exaggerated bow, "Have been carving Wintergate into the edifice of legend. You're welcome by the way," he laughed and placed an arm around Lanik, the two making their way through the camp.

Lanik couldn't help but smile as well. Though the two were not nearly as close as Marcus and himself, there was something about Darian that put men at ease. He had a very unique charm, and one that evidently could work on men as closed as Lanik was. The two walked on for quite a ways, catching up, mostly Darian boasting about great battles he had partaken in and the beautiful elven slaves Lanik would have to try. Captain Wintergate frowned at that, but carried on listening. He had even mentioned Serani, Lanik's wife, who as usual was doing okay. Not that he cared. Marië was still at a children's art academy too close to comfort to the Aetherion border, but Darian had assured him that there was nothing to be worried about. In fact, in due time the academy was to be relocated to Midhaven via a network of caravans, but that was still yet a ways away.

"And father?" Lanik asked, the tone of the conversation taking a sudden turn.

They were now in one of the great Imperial mess halls, where drunken legionnaires were stumbling about spouting and spitting at whatever they pleased. Tired torchlamps illuminated the mess from between every great pillar and corner making for a strangely ambient environment despite all the ruckus around them.

Darian poured a cup and slid it towards Lanik. He turned, filling up his own whilst giving a solemn nod, "His health declines brother. The apothecaries give him but a month to live," sighing, Darian made his way to a spot across from the Wintergate Ranger, "Sad but... father has been this way for quite some time, we knew it was coming,"

There was a sad silence between the two of them for a moment. Lanik was still processing the information. It wasn't news, and Lanik had in fact saw it coming for awhile. There was just apart of him that believed things would mysteriously turn out okay. He didn't want to lose any more family. Not if he could help it. But to save father, that would be to fight against the very fabric that tied the universe together. Gregoir Wintergate had simply lived his years, and his time had come.

Darian, obviously noting Lanik's change in disposition gave his older brother a soft smile, placing his hand on one of his shoulders. He lifted his cup.

"Drink, for father, and you my brother, the heir to the great Wintergate legacy," something in Darian's sincerity spoke to something deep within Lanik, but he couldn't place exactly what.

Lanik let the metallic tasting crimson envelop his senses. He cringed, feeling its thickness slide through his buds. As a younger soldier, the captain had frequently partaken in such rituals, but having been out of the loop for so long, he cringed at the taste.

Darian laughed, "Brother! Have your buds gone soft?". Lanik sighed, hoping his aversion wasn't so obvious.

"It's been awhile, Darian," Lanik chuckled before drinking the rest of his cup.

The two brothers spent another two hours talking before Lanik assembled a group of six veteran rangers, and started the long trek through the mountains.

Condemned

No worries about post length! And I like that idea a lot. I'll be sure to post tomorrow, and it'll be a little lengthier.

Condemned

Lanik Wintergate

* Gender: Male
* Age: 28
* Height: 6'2"
* Hair Color: Brown
* Role: Imperial Captain / Commander of Wintergate's Ranger Covenant

Life has a way of striking away at idealists, and a piece of Lanik's heart broke when he found out about his elder brothers passing. He received the news days after his last assessment in Midhavens Carpenters Guild. It had shattered his world, and it took Lanik quite awhile to heal from it. Marcus was really the only one who understood Lanik's tendency towards all things engineering as opposed to the Imperial obsession with bloodshed. The two would stay up to the latest hours of the night, and Marcus would listen quietly to Lanik's ramblings about new schematics for a monastery or how to improve on an out-dated design of the ballistae in the Imperium's arsenal. No, instead of Marcus Lanik was given his brother's fiance, though however beautiful, never sat well with the captain. He understood why such a move was made, to strengthen political and family ties between the two houses, but... why did it have to be him? Surely Darian, the youngest of the three could have taken up that mantle (and truth be told they probably are behind his back, judging by how often she frequents his little brothers estate near the Eastern front). Whatever there was to the matter, Lanik did not understand it. But, however disgruntled the captain was, the woman had begotten him a beautiful daughter.

Marië.

Lanik couldn't help but smile at the thought. His little mare's very name afforded him a semblance of happiness. She had become the star of his world, a bright eyed little girl with an even brighter curiosity. Why do birds sing when they fly? Do horses sleep standing up? Are there as many stars in the sky as there are people? Questions like these were all too common with Mari, and Lanik always did his best to answer them. It was because of Marië the captain opted to serve in Wintergate's Ranger Covenant, foregoing his little brothers path that carved its way to the Aetherion front, where true blood and glory lay. Lanik did not care for glory, nor blood. All he cared about was returning to Marië in one piece. Here brushing the outskirts of Northaven, Lanik's duties usually amounted to no more than routine patrols and the odd smugglers caravan trying to sneak its way past the border. And he was content with that.

... "then there was the Ranger Covenant, smaller in size and unique in that slaves were not permitted to join its ranks. Lord Wintergate created this Covenant after realizing the sprawling stretch of mountains his estates lay in the shadow of, and deemed it necessary to create a group of skilled survivalists ready to patrol and keep a steady eye. They were not elite, far from it, but they were a group of men adaptable to any situation and resourceful to the fullest. Very seldom did the two Covenants [Fighters and Rangers] fight alongside each other, the last time being during a battle in the Southern most parts of the Imperium. The Rangers were tasked to tunnel deep underground systems throughout enemy lines, wreaking havoc as the Fighter’s advanced slowly ahead. Lanik had led his Rangers during that battle, and refused any sort of accolades afterwards. He had always been afraid of the limelight. But nevertheless it was a rare occurrence for both of Wintergate’s Covenants to be drawn upon.. ."

Condemned

Damnit. he thought to himself. He wasn't sure why, but Lanik had thought the extent of his duty in Aetherion would be limited to simple reconnaissance or other support duties. Capturing an elven commander? That wasn't a task to be taken lightly. He had heard about their ingenuity, it gave them the edge over the Imperial soldiers which had more or less remained stagnant with regards to military technology.

But Lanik a good leader and an even finer tactician. This task was right up his alley. His only regret was how close to danger it put him at, how close it brought him to leaving a daughter fatherless. He caught himself, snapping back to the task at hand and studying the map laid out before.

His eyes followed the mountain range. He knew the mountains well having roamed about them for the better part of his military career. Perhaps he could act as pathfinder? No matter how well constructed a fortification is there are parts of the terrain where a section of wall would be impossible to build, especially in the midst of something as enigmatic as the mountains. Rocky cliffs, steep inclines, areas packed so thick with snow the foundations would simply crumble from instability. And why would a wall need to be built in such areas? It's not like an army would be able to traverse such terrain with ease.

Not an army, no, but maybe...

His mind was racing at a thousand paces a second. He couldn't bring all of the Rangers, that would be too obvious. And the elves aren't stupid, they would have some sort of watch posted to exploitable areas. His plan was slowly formulating in his mind, assessing every possible outcome, opportunity... risk.

"General," Lanik finally spoke up after nearly ten minutes of quiet, "I know the mountains well. I'll take a small contingent of men through here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "And we'll find you an exploit, but," his finger ran to the spot on the map where the bulk of Imperium forces were located, "I suggest to relocate the advance farther away, draw their forces away from the front. One less soldier posted is one less obstacle I need to deal with. As soon as I find a possible entry point I'll relay the information to you,"

He looked up to Captain Magdalee who was staring at him quite intently. Her gaze made him uncomfortable.

"Captain, what am I to expect from the elvish forces? Have you encountered any of their cold-weather attachments?"

Condemned

The Wintergate rangers arrived to the Aetherion front mid-day mounted on powerful chocolate burnished steeds, an odd sight amongst the men who had been there long before them. They were hooded men with silverite plate armor and flowing elegant blue cloaks that fell long over their mounts backside, a stark contrast against the typical outfitted soldier. Lanik led from the front of the two columns, all neatly squared in, moving slowly through the garrisons that flanked the road on each side. The younger rangers Lanik could tell were horrified by the barbarism around them, Lanik could only hope they wouldn't make their surprise too obvious. Men from all sorts of Imperial families were having their way at their spoils. Drinking, cursing and laughing all at the expense of their dirtied slaves with lifeless eyes and lesser hope. Even Lanik himself cringed, seeing a particular slave being beat by a warrior clad in red with a whip while the men around him chanted on. It had been awhile since he fought alongside the field regiments.

It had even been longer since the last time Lanik had donned his plate armor, and even now he could feel it chafing against some of his joints. From the middle of the column rose high the banner of the Ranger Covenant, its sigil, a blind-folded blue fox with barred teeth emblazoning the centerfold. He turned to his lieutenant, wide-eyed and at an obvious discomfort to such a foreign setting.

"Rayne, have the men assemble their encampment..." he frowned, seeing a young slave woman being dragged into a tent by three grisly men, "Away from here, I saw a plot by the river we had passed,"

There was a moment of silence, then the lieutenant, caught up in the cries of the woman from within the tent snapped back to his captains attention.

"Uh... yes sir, sorry, sir, I.. uhh," he stumbled on his words, then was suddenly cut off by a horrifying shriek... and then silence.

"Do you understand my orders, lieutenant?" Captain Wintergate said, more stern this time around.

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yes sir! Column, form up on me!"

The column diverted right with utmost precision, a single being made up of men on horses. With that, Lanik broke off and continued onward. He could feel eyes on him, the deathly glares of savage men who had committed atrocities he'd rather not think of. But he was used to it, already experiencing such judgment in the Imperium Southern campaigns. His Covenant was rarely deployed, and if it was things were either going extremely wrong or extremely well. If foes of this ilk had bested a prodigy swordsman like Marcus, Lanik could only hope it was the latter.

Soon enough he had arrived at the command tent. He dismounted, tying off his horse to a nearby post. The stench of smoke and blood filled his senses, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before moving on.

"General," Lanik spoke, stopping a distance away from the man and giving a sharp salute, "Captain Wintergate reporting as requested,"

Condemned

Darian Wintergate stood at the balcony of his estate, unclothed, breathing in the cool air of the Eastern forests. Night had fallen, and a million stars twinkled overhead. Darian was a very attractive man; sharp features and golden hair just like his mother. Smiling, he heard laughter, grunts and curses litter the area below, where his most senior soldiers had set up garrison. In the distance flickered lights and somber smoke, several camps established by his men in preparation for the great push into the heart of Aetherion. He had waited a long time for this moment, for his chance to place Wintergate on the pedestal and bring grandeur back to a surname that’s otherwise remained stagnant with the death of his eldest brother. And while many other families and estates had forces stationed all along the frontline, Darian knew that it was the name Wintergate that the elves would soon fear.

If only Lanik had shared the same ignited passion. No, his ranger brother was perfectly content with his indolent profession of babysitting the quiet mountains. The Ranger Covenant was becoming obsolete, and why his father had created the order in the first place was unbeknownst to him. Wintergate needed to propagate it’s standing amongst the Imperial forces. To do that required a vested mission to bolster the ranks of the Fighter’s Covenant. No longer were the winter family to be seen as an idle vigour nesting in the bosom of the mountains. No, Darian had fantastical plans to make his family the King’s favoured.

“Still day-dreaming, my love?” Darian caught a sultry voice from beside him. Serani Cheshire, an olive skinned idol with piercing emerald green eyes rested her head on his shoulder, tracing her hand along the crease of his back.

“Yes,” Darian said, eyes still scanning the distant lights, “I’ve received word that brother Lanik is marching our way, bringing his entire covenant as ‘father’ requested,”

Darian couldn’t help but grin. Forging the letter was easy enough, he had many contacts in the capital city. If Marcus had the golden blade and Lanik the veiled cloak, well then… Darian must have had the silver tongue. Politicians and those of high council loved the company of the youngest Wintergate boy, and because of that coming across father’s seal was terribly easy.

Father.

Lord Wintergate’s health was declining of late, and at present, it was to the point where he could barely remember his name. It would soon be time for a new heir, one truly worthy of the regard to be bestowed on the successor. And who would it be? Marcus had passed, dying gloriously in the field of battle. Lanik? No. He was too weak, too unassuming. Wintergate needed somebody who wanted the position, who embraced it wholly and fully the weight of the family. Darian kissed the top of Serani’s head, running his fingers through her silky hair.

“Then everything goes according to plan,” she looked into the distance, just as he did, “You will be successor soon enough, worry not sweet Darian,”

The plan was an amalgamation of delicate foresight between Darian and the Cheshire family, created after the death of his great brother Marcus. Darian had thought he would forever live in the shadow of his fabled brother, but with his death opened doors. But then there was Lanik…

The Cheshires traced a remarkable history back to their fore-fathers, who were a clandestine society of assassins before Coronal’s seize into the Empire. Darian had seen these assassins himself, and they were quite the specimen. Six foot men with empty eyes and a thirst for blood, soldiers that Wintergate could use more of. Soldiers that not even his brother, as skilled as he was could best. The Solverrein Groves would be Lanik’s tomb, the same place where Marcus was struck down by those elves. Darian couldn’t help smile at the poetry.

And it wasn’t as if Darian had been wholly unaffected with the death of Marcus, he had grieved in his own way. He grieved for months -- disbelief turning into depression, then sadness, then anger. But Darian used that to create the building blocks that made him who he was today. Marcus was the brother Darian should have only had. Lanik though, Lanik withdrew into himself as he always did. Locked away in the Wintergate Estate, fearful of the world. Darian knew that if he fed some story about Marcus possibly being alive, the middle brother would move heaven and earth to find out the truth. Darian’s story would put Lanik towards Solverrein, where the Cheshire assassins garbed in elven armor would await.

Then there was the second phase, ridding Serani of that wretched child she had begotten with her ‘husband’. Secretly Darian had been stockpiling and stowing away arms and armor belonging to the elves he had slaughtered thus far. It would come in one stroke, a caravan headed for Midhaven being raided by Cheshire men in enemy uniform, and a dead child that only complicated his succession to power and the succession of his future children. Even Serani herself had given blessing to this part of the plan, perhaps she knew just as much as he did how hopeless it was to be cuffed to his brother.

Wintergate would have another martyr to fight for, and the Imperium would surely see an attack against a civilian caravan means to mobilize a full-scale onslaught against the elves. Maybe even the King himself would lead the charge with the Wintergate youngest at his side? Darian allowed himself the thought.

“And when do you suspect your brother will arrive, my Lord?” Serani fluttered her eyes.

“Tomorrow, mid-day,” he replied, taking in another deep breath of forest air.

“Then come back to bed with me,” the olive-skinned lynx grabbed his hand and led him onward.

“Let the troubles of tomorrow wait,”

Looking for serious 1x1 RP partner!

@Thinslayer

Post is up!

http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/161513-condemned/ic#post-4244221

Condemned

First on the left.

The captain whispered, his voice hoarse and slightly muffled from behind the rangers mask. His eyes, one iris a soft hazel and the other an icy blue studied the distance carefully. He was in a company of seven, white-cloaked rangers each taking specific positions in the snowy thicket that flanked this lonely road. They had been tracking a smugglers caravan for the past two weeks, and after finally ascertaining it was the one they were looking for, he made the decision to hustle ahead and plan for an ambush. He gave a reassuring pat to the man beside him, who looked back and returned a nod. Gracefully moving through the brush, he stopped at his next man, whispering.

Second from the left.

The ranger nodded in acknowledgement, his hand toying with the bow in his grasp. The captain could tell he was nervous, this one was particularly young, maybe even the youngest under his command. Eighteen maybe? Two years before the standardized time for warrior placement. Though, he knew there was leeway with the system should a possible Imperial prospect show eagerness to throw his life before the altar of war. Though the boy could not see it, his officer gave a soft smile from underneath his mask, placing a comforting hand on his soldier's head before moving on.

Third from the left.
First on the right.
Second from the right.

Driver.

Captain Wintergate, or Lanik to his inner circle of friends and even to a few of his enlisted officers, much to the chagrin of those with more bearing than him. He was the middle child of the legendary Gregoir Wintergate, a burly man in himself who swung a mighty battle-ax in the name of the King. The surname Wintergate bore very reputable weight, for they were one of the first families (under the masterful eyes of Gregoir of course) to emblazon a path that allowed settlements to sprout along the outermost fringes of Northavens shadow. The mountains provided a natural barrier to any sort of threat the unknown North posed to the Empire, so House Wintergate lived in relative peace. Relative compared to the other families who immersed themselves in the faculties of war every chance they could get. That's not to say the Wintergate's do not put in their part to the militaristic endeavors of the Imperium -- far from it. They were a family bound on duty and loyalty. That credence was probably why the solitary family remained relevant for so long.

And of course to further complicate his position in the family was his late elder brother Marcus Wintergate, who took from their father Gregoir much like Lanik did. Thick tussles of brown hair and fair skin, relatively unblemished save for the occasional scar and cut. But there was something about Marcus that always differentiated him from the regular folk. It must have been the way the people looked at him, admired him. How they hung on every word he spoke as if his dashing smile cured some innate hopelessness the way a poem could strike the soul. In truth, Marcus was the Wintergate golden child. He was charismatic, charming and kind, but more importantly, a fierce competitor in the Imperium's fabled Arena. He was slated to be one of the Imperium's greatest champions, and he was for quite awhile. His renown had earned him the respect of one of the most prominent noble houses of the Coronal Islands, the Cheshires, which led to an arranged marriage between Marcus and an olive-skinned beauty of the isles. Were not Marcus struck down deep in the forests of Aetherion, Lanik was sure they would have made a happy couple. Unfortunately with Marcus' passing, the Cheshire woman's hand went to the next in line. Which was the Lanik child.

Life has a way of striking away at idealists, and a piece of Lanik's heart broke when he found out about his elder brothers passing. He received the news days after his last assessment in Midhavens Carpenters Guild. It had shattered his world, and it took Lanik quite awhile to heal from it. Marcus was really the only one who understood Lanik's tendency towards all things engineering as opposed to the Imperial obsession with bloodshed. The two would stay up to the latest hours of the night, and Marcus would listen quietly to Lanik's ramblings about new schematics for a monastery or how to improve on an out-dated design of the ballistae in the Imperium's arsenal. No, instead of Marcus Lanik was given his brother's fiance, though however beautiful, never sat well with the captain. He understood why such a move was made, to strengthen political and family ties between the two houses, but... why did it have to be him? Surely Darian, the youngest of the three could have taken up that mantle (and truth be told they probably are behind his back, judging by how often she frequents his little brothers estate near the Eastern front). Whatever there was to the matter, Lanik did not understand it. But, however disgruntled the captain was, the woman had begotten him a beautiful daughter.

Marië.

Lanik couldn't help but smile at the thought. His little mare's very name afforded him a semblance of happiness. She had become the star of his world, a bright eyed little girl with an even brighter curiosity. Why do birds sing when they fly? Do horses sleep standing up? Are there as many stars in the sky as there are people? Questions like these were all too common with Mari, and Lanik always did his best to answer them. It was because of Marië the captain opted to serve in Wintergate's Ranger Covenant, foregoing his little brothers path that carved its way to the Aetherion front, where true blood and glory lay. Lanik did not care for glory, nor blood. All he cared about was returning to Marië in one piece. Here brushing the outskirts of Northaven, Lanik's duties usually amounted to no more than routine patrols and the odd smugglers caravan trying to sneak its way past the border. And he was content with that.

It wasn't too long until the wheels of the rickety caravan could be heard trudging down the path. The men were attentive. The captain through hushed words spoke one last time to them before bounding off to a position overlooking the road, thick with bushes and trees.

Wait for my signal.

Positioning himself, the captain waited. While well-versed in open field combat, as most Imperial outfits prefer, Lanik Wintergate had unorthodox methods and as a whole frowned upon by many of the other Imperial officers. He sectioned off his cohorts into smaller groups, called strike teams, much like the outfit he was working with now, to promote mobility and self-sufficiency. And no man under his command specialized in a single thing. They were Jack's-of-all masters at none. His men would be the most versatile in the entire Imperium if he had his say.

Nocking an arrow, Lanik zeroed in on his target, the passenger. Although he didn't share a passion for war like his younger brother, that's not to say the captain was unskilled in the craft of killing. Every Imperial citizen was a ferocious warrior in their own right, forged from a young age to be fierce weapons sworn to the King. Lanik was no different, and while not the almighty prodigy during training as Marcus was, the captain held true to his own. It wasn't long until the caravan was settled in the kill-zone.

The arrow released, cutting through the cold mountain air with a sinister hiss. His aim true, the passenger not long after was clutching at his throat, streaks of blood squirting out in intervals here and there. Seconds after six more arrows found their targets, and within seconds six more bodies were lying in the snow. The wagon came to a halt, and for a second there the forest fell deadly silent, almost peaceful, a strange dichotomy with the dead men that lay before them, slowly spilling themselves out into the whiteness of the snow. Lanik waited, quietly observant of the scene before him. Then there was a loud cry, and a small figure took off running full sprint from behind the wagon. Not even thinking Lanik notched another arrow, tracing the figures path before firing. His target dropped, and not long after another figure came sprinting from behind the wagon, kneeling before the captain’s kill and holding the body close. Pausing for a moment, Lanik looked back to where his men were hiding, signalling them towards the set before them. Leading the way, the hunter approached his kill, cautiously, curious as to who this man was.

“My sweet boy.. . speak to me,” the old father pleaded, his animal fur clothes ragged and unkempt, much like the body he hold onto so dearly, “Don't leave me please... we were going to make it,”

The body could not have been no more than ten... eleven maybe? Lanik could feel a lump in his throat, and a twist in his stomach. The father paid no attention to the captain, completely encapsulated by the loss of his son. A light snowfall had begun, and whether or not it was the cutting mountain air that chilled his soul or the scene before him Lanik could not decide.

"Captain Wintergate," a voice said behind him with approaching footsteps, "They were smuggling Sol-crystals, two crates full. I'm sure the mages at Northaven will enjoy.. ." the voice trailed off, interrupted by quiet sobs, and the shattering of hearts.

It seemed that Sol-crystals were a popular item as of late. A rare magical ingredient mined deep in the mountains of the North. Lanik looked back.

"Rally the men lieutenant, and prepare the crates to move," he ordered, "We leave at once,"

"And them sir?"

Leave them be.

✱ ✲ ✳ ✴ ✵

The trek back to camp had been a quiet one, the captain in an empty trance the entire way. The Imperium thrived off war, and it wasn't like this was the first man he had killed. Boys at a young age were indoctrinated to revel in the fight, success determined by the death of the enemy combatant. But why did it affect him so deeply? He gathered himself, sighting smoke from camp bonfires floating up ahead in the distance. Lanik couldn't define what he was feeling... maybe guilt? Sorrow? Weary? His gut twisted at the thought of being placed in the fathers position. To hold Marië in her dying breaths, pleading to whatever powers be to save his child. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind before they drew close.

"So captain, tell me," his lieutenant spoke up from the middle of the group, "Lord Wintergate has all of his capable field men-at-arms fighting on the Aetherion front, yes? Well as I recall we were supposed to decimate those elves long ago. It's been six months since I've last heard that -- and I know, I know," he spit, "Campaigns rarely ever match the timeline expected of them. But if it's taking so long why not send some of us? I'm itching for some real combat, not these sorry smugglers we spend days tracking into the middle of nowhere,"

Lanik forced an ominous grin, "If you'd really wanted that lieutenant you’d have enlisted with the field-regiments, but you're here, scrounging the winter tundra in a white cloak. Don't tell me you’re regretting it already?"

"Far from it sir," his lieutenant laughed, "I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but I hear about all these fantastical battles in those forests and a part of me wishes I could be there. Cast my name into legend like your brother Marcus and fight the good fight, for the King. Do you not wish that of yourself as well?"

It was the tail-end of the evening, brilliant red streaks eviscerating the mountain sky in a colorful show of power. It truly was a beautiful sight, a sight that Lanik never got used to. He enjoyed the mountains, the solidarity and calm they provided in a world always on the warpath. He was not an idealist, in fact, he was fairly pragmatic with his approach to duty and subservience to the King, as was his father. Little Darian was really the only one in the family who dreamed of renown and celebrity substance. Marcus and Lanik were always level-headed, though Marcus always knew how to handle his popularity. The captain was the polar opposite, retreating from recognition when placed on the pedestal.

"I wish..." he smirked, “I owned a lovely farm in the West. Where I could raise horses and cattle. A good plot of land so I could build myself a nice barn with a steep roof all out of the most exotic woods. With a creek not far away, so I could fish from the moment I awoke to the moment my casting arm was too sore to move,”

There were chuckles amongst the group.

“You sound like a simple man, captain,” the lieutenant said, laughing.

He really was. Live simply, love simply. Being a Wintergate Ranger was simple. He did not want to complicate life with politics or any other static. Let his father and little brother deal with the gravity of death, he had seen enough of his share. The warlike ideology of the Imperium had always seemed strange to him. And while he understood the importance of duty to your country, at what point does duty subjugate the tens of thousands of people cast into the fires of battle every day. At what point does the Imperium stop expanding? Not that his ideas took on any weight whatsoever, those decisions were made by greater authorities nestled in Midhaven. His daze broke at the sound of hoofs beating towards them.

“Captain Wintergate!” the emissary called out, stopping a distance away and holding out a letter with his father’s seal, “An urgent message from the capital,”

Lanik eyed the man closely before receiving the letter. The group had stopped in their tracks, curious as to what was going on. Opening the letter and breaking the seal, Lanik read carefully the words penned.

Wintergate had a fairly simple military structure. There were two branches: the Fighter’s Covenant and the Ranger’s Covenant. The Fighter’s covenant amassed the bulk of Wintergate’s soldiers and slaves, outfitted for regimental battles and general military excursions where volleys of armed men were seen fit to accomplish a task at hand. Marcus oversaw this Covenant prior to his death, and he was well loved by the men, respected and trusted by even the most acrimonious of Imperial officers. After his passing Lanik’s little brother Darian was placed in control, and while not amounting to the greatness that preceded, Darian was a fine leader as well albeit a tad on the reckless side.

Then there was the Ranger Covenant, smaller in size and unique in that slaves were not permitted to join its ranks. Lord Wintergate created this Covenant after realizing the sprawling stretch of mountains his estates lay in the shadow of, and deemed it necessary to create a group of skilled survivalists ready to patrol and keep a steady eye. They were not elite, far from it, but they were a group of men adaptable to any situation and resourceful to the fullest. Very seldom did the two Covenants fight alongside each other, the last time being during a battle in the Southern most parts of the Imperium. The Rangers were tasked to tunnel deep underground systems throughout enemy lines, wreaking havoc as the Fighter’s advanced slowly ahead. Lanik had led his Rangers during that battle, and refused any sort of accolades afterwards. He had always been afraid of the limelight. But nevertheless it was a rare occurrence for both of Wintergate’s Covenants to be drawn upon. But…

Lanik Wintergate folded the letter and slipped it into his cloak.

“It seems you’ll be getting your wish, lieutenant,” the men looked at one another uneasily.

“Send out the birds, every able-bodied ranger is to report for Imperial duty. We march East,”

Lanik could feel a lump in his throat, and a twist in his stomach.

Looking for serious 1x1 RP partner!

@Thinslayer
Hi! That won't be necessary, I'll be posting later in the evening, I think what I have will be a good introduction. I'll PM you once it's posted.

Looking for serious 1x1 RP partner!

@Thinslayer
For the sake of establishing a plot I think it would be good to start off with a campaign theme, mixing in other themes -- story permitting. Honestly, as long as there's an overall goal (which I assume from the synopsis is to bring peace to the Imperium) I'll be down for any theme. Maybe there'll be a section where our characters are thrust into an arena, or watch observantly in a political party of grandeur trying to locate a target. But just to keep a sense of direction yeah, let's go with a Campaign theme. Our characters are here to complete a set goal, which will be determined more eloquently in the story (as well as their motives). I like the idea of being able to fall back to slice of life every now and then, when the pacing slows and we can really develop our characters because of past tribulations.

Cool beans?