Blubaron45

Adventures of the Blood Rose Irregulars

Amare Internellis

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It was an interesting spectacle for Amare as he watched his fellow brothers-in-arms prepare for the battle which was about to commence just a little less than a day from now, a battle some could consider an easy task though not without losses. Amare had known war for a while since taking the call of duty to defend the last bastion of mankind just fortnight ago, in his few encounters of taking on foes since his first days as a Men of the Scarlet Coats, a mercenary guild he had officially left another two years prior to taking the freelance and began his search for some since of individualism. Though that was only so short lived, many men who could say they are truly self-sufficient at such a young age were often the ones who either made history, or have wished they did. And so, it was back to jumping from one guild to the next for Amare, hoping for a chance of bottling the fame as those written down in history and told around the campfires of warriors who aspired to be the their idols as their names echoed in eternity. Amare was mostly self-made though it would take very laborious condition in order to bottle the fame and reek the fortune of eternal life in order to become truly one of the greatest at his occupation. Eagerly, Amare was destined to prove himself in battle as he so dreamt of.

What a colorful group Amare thought to himself half optimistically as he walked around the camp of equally eager young men and women, standing to fend their country against a sea of troubles that threatens the last of mankind. Though the same thoughts could not be expressed in how the small band of warriors were unorganized. It one be one thing if the king had hired and called upon a reasonably experienced group of warriors who could substantiate the defense of mankind though these in general were no such warriors. They had been gathered of commoners, peasants mostly who hadn't the knowledge of anything more to battle than a fistfight over bread and that was not to necessarily be exaggerated. The empire needed as many men as they could, this was true, and the last of man could have easily levied men from villages, though they exhausted all resource of men in order to do so. All that could be what was left of mankind could be summed by the gathering of any warrior willing to fight his or her race. That was not to necessarily to say that it was a pathetic group of soldiers, it was certainly better than Levies of fresh recruits. They were also a handful of: Experienced guild members, trained knights of lesser born sons, mages, and even a priest who had kindly offered his services before a battle, though anything but coming close to being members of the King's Guard and Amare would rather pray to the Gods himself. Amare had sparred with the men who were quite experienced and rather skilled with the sword and he could himself say they were not terrible, though some were initially brought up of not knowing which side of the sword to hold onto. With time, however, it would definitely benefit mankind's last stance, but to send them into battle surly meant the ultimate test for those eager enough to prove themselves or die trying, jeopardizing a great defeat. Luckily, it was only a hundred men. A hundred men, though diverse in their skills - preparing themselves to fight what historians would consider 'the good fight'.

Those who so often pride themselves in whatever prowess they dare to try to express and convince to themselves or others of are very rarely often as good as they think they are and a country seeking not to depose of whatever warrior were left still alive to defend their lands could say it would be just to weed out such commoners and what many could call 'mediocre' in order to benefit the higher ranking, more experienced men though that could not be said for a nation that serves as the last bastion of mankind. Cannon fodder could only be considered Cannon Fodder if only there were so many to spare and at this moment of time, a race of people on the edge of being conquered and possibly extinct could not afford to do so. No, the could-be Last Empire of Man needed whomever they could take to arms and those convinced rightly so by propaganda could not resist the call of duty. Whatever lied ahead, whatever task that needed to be done, Amare was ready for it if it meant either death or another chance to climb the ladder of fortune. Only time would tell, and his experiences would certainly pave a way to redemption.

The camp was beginning to be swallowed by the departure of the setting sun and tranquil sun that began to set over the horizon and cast the shadow over the land. Throughout his two weeks of training in this guild after being placed by his recruiter, he had not bothered to know his fellow companions for too long despite the occasional sparring session which were far too often. This was something he regretted as he was usually a quiet fellow. Often, Amare would spend days shadow-fighting, training his muscles for hitting the perfect strike though very little spending time on how to attack and defend against a moving target. As the days passed, more and more often did the recruits come in, lesser trained and then some.

Tonight, he had spent another evening in solitude, praying to the Gods, and put his blade to whetstone to ready himself for the morrow morning which was surely to come. While coming back to his campfire after a break to relieve himself, Amare overheard the conversations of the Jehan de Challon, his squire, and the accompanying coutilier. He had already known the Challon family from his father, the Count, who had offered the Men of Scarlet Coats a percentage of coin that needed to be collected from peasants at a nearby village, though never quite meeting the fourth-born son of the family. Any man experienced enough to judge an army such as the one he was in, Jehan very much came to the same conclusions as Amare did. Amare himself had only one horse, Dustin who as almost as slow as a mule, a horse who he had spent only three months with since Attamir had fallen in battle to a band of raiders another month before. Though not as well as riding as a nobleman, Amare considered himself proficient enough to fight with a spear and while riding horseback, as lightly armored as he was though there was only so much boiled leather could take in the violence of a battle against orcs. If this fight were to be so destined for defeat, he could try to fight off as many orcs as he could and if needed be, retreat and run for his life to fight another day. Amare soon after, turned his back when he thought Jehan had noticed him and walked back towards his own tent, passing by the soldiers he will be standing next to in battle on the morrow. How many he would see again, he could not be certain, for Amare could only hope for the best, both for him and the band of warriors he was to stand side by side with.

Adventures of the Blood Rose Irregulars

@SirSqueakalot91

AYYYYY!

Adventures of the Blood Rose Irregulars

Mind if I write tomorrow? I didn't realize how much homework I had :/

Setbacks - Story of a High School Mafia

Farewell.

the fact that (WE MUST REVIVE THIS THREAD)

<Snipped quote by JunkMail>

Already been done.

@BrobyDDark

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

Setbacks - Story of a High School Mafia

@Ruby I'm open to practically anything! Do what you want.

the fact that (WE MUST REVIVE THIS THREAD)

I’m Rick Harrison, and this is my pawn shop. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss. Everything in here has a story and a price. One thing I’ve learned after 21 years – you never know WHAT is gonna come through that door

the fact that (WE MUST REVIVE THIS THREAD)

Oh, race of Franks, race from across the mountains, race chosen and beloved by Godas shines forth in very many of your works set apart from all nations by the situation of your country, as well as by your catholic faith and the honor of the holy church! To you our discourse is addressed and for you our exhortation is intended. We wish you to know what a grievous cause has led us to Your country, what peril threatening you and all the faithful has brought us.

From the confines of Jerusalem and the city of Constantinople a horrible tale has gone forth and very frequently has been brought to our ears, namely, that a race from the kingdom of the Persians, an accursed race, a race utterly alienated from God, a generation forsooth which has not directed its heart and has not entrusted its spirit to God, has invaded the lands of those Christians and has depopulated them by the sword, pillage and fire; it has led away a part of the captives into its own country, and a part it has destroyed by cruel tortures; it has either entirely destroyed the churches of God or appropriated them for the rites of its own religion. They destroy the altars, after having defiled them with their uncleanness. They circumcise the Christians, and the blood of the circumcision they either spread upon the altars or pour into the vases of the baptismal font. When they wish to torture people by a base death, they perforate their navels, and dragging forth the extremity of the intestines, bind it to a stake; then with flogging they lead the victim around until the viscera having gushed forth the victim falls prostrate upon the ground. Others they bind to a post and pierce with arrows. Others they compel to extend their necks and then, attacking them with naked swords, attempt to cut through the neck with a single blow. What shall I say of the abominable rape of the women? To speak of it is worse than to be silent. The kingdom of the Greeks is now dismembered by them and deprived of territory so vast in extent that it can not be traversed in a march of two months. On whom therefore is the labor of avenging these wrongs and of recovering this territory incumbent, if not upon you? You, upon whom above other nations God has conferred remarkable glory in arms, great courage, bodily activity, and strength to humble the hairy scalp of those who resist you.

Let the deeds of your ancestors move you and incite your minds to manly achievements; the glory and greatness of king Charles the Great, and of his son Louis, and of your other kings, who have destroyed the kingdoms of the pagans, and have extended in these lands the territory of the holy church. Let the holy sepulchre of the Lord our Saviour, which is possessed by unclean nations, especially incite you, and the holy places which are now treated with ignominy and irreverently polluted with their filthiness. Oh, most valiant soldiers and descendants of invincible ancestors, be not degenerate, but recall the valor of your progenitors.

But if you are hindered by love of children, parents and wives, remember what the Lord says in the Gospel, "He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me." "Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my name's sake shall receive an hundredfold and shall inherit everlasting life." Let none of your possessions detain you, no solicitude for your family affairs, since this land which you inhabit, shut in on all sides by the seas and surrounded by the mountain peaks, is too narrow for your large population; nor does it abound in wealth; and it furnishes scarcely food enough for its cultivators. Hence it is that you murder one another, that you wage war, and that frequently you perish by mutual wounds. Let therefore hatred depart from among you, let your quarrels end, let wars cease, and let all dissensions and controversies slumber. Enter upon the road to the Holy Sepulchre; wrest that land from the wicked race, and subject it to yourselves. That land which as the Scripture says "floweth with milk and honey," was given by God into the possession of the children of Israel Jerusalem is the navel of the world; the land is fruitful above others, like another paradise of delights. This the Redeemer of the human race has made illustrious by His advent, has beautified by residence, has consecrated by suffering, has redeemed by death, has glorified by burial. This royal city, therefore, situated at the centre of the world, is now held captive by His enemies, and is in subjection to those who do not know God, to the worship of the heathens. She seeks therefore and desires to be liberated, and does not cease to implore you to come to her aid. From you especially she asks succor, because, as we have already said, God has conferred upon you above all nations great glory in arms. Accordingly undertake this journey for the remission of your sins, with the assurance of the imperishable glory of the kingdom of heaven.

When Pope Urban had said these and very many similar things in his urbane discourse, he so influenced to one purpose the desires of all who were present, that they cried out, "It is the will of God! It is the will of God!" When the venerable Roman pontiff heard that, with eyes uplifted to heaven he gave thanks to God and, with his hand commanding silence, said:

Most beloved brethren, today is manifest in you what the Lord says in the Gospel, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name there am I in the midst of them." Unless the Lord God had been present in your spirits, all of you would not have uttered the same cry. For, although the cry issued from numerous mouths, yet the origin of the cry was one. Therefore I say to you that God, who implanted this in your breasts, has drawn it forth from you. Let this then be your war-cry in combats, because this word is given to you by God. When an armed attack is made upon the enemy, let this one cry be raised by all the soldiers of God: It is the will of God! It is the will of God!

And we do not command or advise that the old or feeble, or those unfit for bearing arms, undertake this journey; nor ought women to set out at all, without their husbands or brothers or legal guardians. For such are more of a hindrance than aid, more of a burden than advantage. Let the rich aid the needy; and according to their wealth, let them take with them experienced soldiers. The priests and clerks of any order are not to go without the consent of their bishop; for this journey would profit them nothing if they went without permission of these. Also, it is not fitting that laymen should enter upon the pilgrimage without the blessing of their priests.

Whoever, therefore, shall determine upon this holy pilgrimage and shall make his vow to God to that effect and shall offer himself to Him as a, living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, shall wear the sign of the cross of the Lord on his forehead or on his breast. When,' truly',' having fulfilled his vow be wishes to return, let him place the cross on his back between his shoulders. Such, indeed, by the twofold action will fulfill the precept of the Lord, as He commands in the Gospel, "He that taketh not his cross and followeth after me, is not worthy of me."

Setbacks - Story of a High School Mafia

@Dirty Pretty Lies Accepted. You may move JC to the Char tab.

[Closed] Asbasta [Closed]

Aaron Yuuto Kasamatsu, Cell F-2B

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Don't forget me, Aaron, he heard her voice again - as crisp and clear as day it was. The feeling of her breath on his, cherry blossom, a flavor that euphoric smell and feeling of her that made him forget about all other troubles that could fester and boil into a man's brain. That was before she died, and now all he could be greeted to in the morning was a dead, monotone voice that struck him into consciousness like lightening striking a living, lush tree. It was all surreal for him, the basic concrete, the steel doors and most importantly, the set up of the room. Aaron was certainly no man of comforts by any chance, though to deal with such an uncomfortable setting would surly get the better of him. It was a dead room that seemed to be alive, his cell in F-2B. Aaron heard once that a truly free person is like a puppet who learns to loves his strings, prison life was the same, consisting of routine and discipline. If this were to be his home, then he must learn find comfort in temporarily confided solitude if he could not truly say to have yet love this life of bars and concrete. Not to say anyone truly does.

Though this would have to be his life, as he would remind himself repeatedly, his new routine to substitute for the life of sin he had once lived and knew he was guilty of. Aaron could come to terms with this punishment, though criminality was the only life he truly ever quite knew and one could easily say that despite a criminal's vileness and life of criminality, someone has to make a living in this occupation. And who could truly blame a man for doing something he was good at? It was only a matter of time before it would all catch up to him as it did to most people, it's just a shame Aaron himself wasn't good enough himself, he admitted bitterly. All he could think about was how he was caught as he did in the courtroom, though he could not think about it no, he shouldn't be thinking about it. This was no small flaw he could correct himself on, this was permanent and what was done, is done. Nothing to fix. If only I were a better criminal. He lightheartedly thought to himself, chuckling quietly. I would be sleeping in a motel room, waiting for another contract.

Aaron lifted himself from his hard bed and let his feet rest on the hard, cold tile floor below him, it was the first time he had ever lifted himself from bed so laboriously. The smell of prison was like no other. It was the smell cleaning products that crept into a man's nose profusely as he remembered from his days from juvie. This was no cherry blossom, though admittedly was better than he had originally thought prison would be like. After the announcement, the buzzing lights flashed before Aaron's eyes in an almost blinding moment. It was as if he were living in a cave for years before suddenly being exposed to an alien light that most men could find comfort in. In an effort to cover his eyes, Aaron immediately attempted to slowly adjust to the illuminated world around him. Well, isn't this a good morning... He thought to himself, as many other cellmates could be heard quite audibly complaining about the lights, though seemed to have complained like this before. That would have to be another thing he would have to get used to in his prison below the sea.

Aaron heard the sound of a man barking at what he assumed to be a guard, though was there after followed by the man screaming in agony and crashing onto the floor of his cell. For a moment, he did not really quite know whether to find that moment in his first day in prison as humorous or the fact that he should be scared. Aaron himself knew that he was not quite the aggressively loquacious type, for that is how he survived all of these years prior to getting pinched. In his days of being a convict, it was always the boastful who bit the barrel of a gun most often and very unlikely for someone like Aaron to be on the dumber end of a gun, that was until he was arrested of course.

The cold steel doors, buzzed once, twice, and finally three times before they gave way and opened for the prisoners to file out of their cages and line-up to eat breakfast that morning, another ritual that again Aaron would have to get used to. He walked, following the lead of everyone else who has ever been in this prison underneath the sea. The guards called for each file of men to walk when ordered to before making their laborious way to the mess hall. Already, Aaron could feel the cold unwelcome of the men that snickered among themselves and the dirty looks that followed from what Aaron could guess is how they treated new fish. Everything in this prison was so clean and organized, though the same could not be for the men. As Aaron and his fellow prisoners gathered in the mess hall their "food" before sitting. But where could Aaron sit? He could not simply sit alone since he would be targeted. No, he had to sit near someone and not stand out so obviously and be ready if the time were to come, defend himself. Though some part of his time told him not to worry, the prison itself was very disciplined and having been to Juvie himself, the only times fights broke was when usually both participates engaged in combat. Despite this, Aaron knew he had to think fast and sit somewhere where he could not be harassed.

Across from him sat a white man, he looked Slavic, about three or so inches taller than Aaron was. He gave a chance to look at him while the Slavic man wasn't looking and Aaron knew his type. The silent type, though not someone to mess with, he could tell by his looks alone that he could be quite menacing though there was something else about him that Aaron knew he should at some point be acquainted with him. Aaron was never the friendly type, though for the sake of surviving in prison, he knew he would have to take baby steps in order to hone himself as to not be completely defenseless. That's not to say that was his only intention for wanting to sit near him, he had a familiar look to him. A kind of man who had seen his fair share of hardship and turmoil, this man reminded Aaron of himself. After a while, Aaron walked towards his table and sat close, though not directly next to him, or in front of him either. Aaron had positioned himself on the other side of Vladimír, though a seat away from being directly in front of him and began to eat his "meal for the morning" and didn't say a word.