@Transience Pls. Mercy.
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Why is ecology so dry...
Bio
20 year old skinny asian living in Australia. Nothing much to say really. Despiser of the YOLO generation. Acts more like a crochety old man.
Has two dogs. Pets them a lot and applies the same logic to humans too.
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A beard to end all beards. And beneath that beard...
Some say that that beard contains another shield to protect his neck.
Ellarian, master of the defense. Also has a bachelor of chemistry.
Letting out a silent nod at the Captain's words, Ellarian continued to stroke his beard while staring at the moon. "Crush them into powder," he said off handedly as he watched the celestial body slowly rise into the air. If he remembered correctly...then that meant...A blood curdling screech jolted him from his concentration as thouseands of feet began to thunder outside the walls. "Now is the time men!" he shouted, rallying the soldiers with a single clang of his shield on the flagstones. "Sir, yes sir!" was the unanimous response as they rushed off to their assigned positions. Having spent the last hour or so briefing them on the basics of his plan, he trusted that they would do their jobs. Turning back to the captain, who looked proudly upon his men, Ellarian cleared his throat, gaining his attention. "I want all these stones crushed within the hour," he said as he began striding towards the wall tops himself, "is that understood?'
"Y-yes sir!" he said with a nod, before turning back to the work detail. "You heard him, prepare the mills!"
Joining the men at the top of the Northern wall, Ellarian was just in time to see the first sub-human wretch crest the wall, screaming his incomprehensible gibberish and brandishing a crude blade of bolted iron. To their credit, the shieldbearer assigned to that position reacted quickly, slamming his shield into his malformed face and sending him falling to his death. The spear meanwhile was busy stabbing at the ones still scaling the walls, spitting some on the point while sending others tumbling to their demise. "Remember that you need not slay them on the walls," Ellarian shouted as he patrolled the wall, keeping an eye on all sections. The main concentration of the enemy seemed to be on the eastern flank. That would be his next destination. "Remove their hands and they will die just as readily!" They had height working for them at least in this case, and a tumbling corpse was as useful as dropping a stone down on the people below anyway. As an enemy grabbed the rim of a shield, Ellarion shoved past the spearman and grabbed its wrist. It was a disgusting little waif, with a wrist covered in ochre and teeth filed down into points. Glaring down at it, Ellarion tightened his grip. With a sound akin to shattering glass, the sub-human's arm snapped and it let out a piercing scream for a split second, releasing the shield, before its head was dashed against the merlon with horrifying force. Contemptuously, Ellarian cast the corpse downwards where it knocked another screaming off of the wall. "You're doing well men! Just 20 more minutes!" he shouted. The men didn't know what he meant, but the prospect of victory within such a short deadline was so tempting that they went at their enemy with renewed vigour.
One of those infernal hellstones crashed against the eastern wall, scattering that damnable powder all over six men who began to scream as their flesh began to rapidly sear and redden while one man was thrown clear of the wall by a particularly large shard. "You three! Drag these men to the infirmary!" Ellarian shouted as he entered the section, "You and you! positions facing me!" Without question, the men obeyed, three of them dragging the six suffering soldiers away while the other two turned away from their positions on the wall and faced him, unsure of what they were to do "And you, call three soldiers from the west and north walls to replace these men!" A cannibal crested the wall as he finished giving orders. With a brutal punch, Ellarian send him spiralling into the crowd below with a broken jaw. In the same movement, he grabbed another by the scruff of its neck and dragged it up. He considered the creature in front of him for a second. Gaunt, pale and bald apart from a single long braid on his head, the creature hissed violently and fought to free itself, but to no avail. Instead, Ellarian reeled back his arm and hurled him hard against one of the shields, leaving a visceral smear across its silver surface as its skull shattered. "Sir!" one of the soldiers shouted. Raising his shield Ellarian parried a clumsy sword strike and sent his assailant reeling with a savage headbutt. As it fought to clear its head, Ellarian kicked it off of the wall and into the waiting mob below. "Focus on your own duties! It is only 15 more minutes" he bellowed as a particularly large sub-human crested the wall, "I will deal with this one personally."
It was a disgusting beast to be sure. Brutishly tall and muscled, it was covered with layers of ochre and carried a large, rusty cleaver in its ham-like fist. Its eyes were bloodshot and unfocussed, probably as a result of some sort of drug, and a fetish of bones was strung around two poles jutting from its back, between which hung a scrap of decorated flesh. "I'm about sure you're the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Ellarian remarked as he flexed his shoulder. In return, he received a blast of rancid, hot breath and spittle as it roared, beginning a charge. Taking the charge head on, Ellarian raised his shield in time to intercept the cleaver which rang heavily off of his shield and numbed his arm. Pitting sinew against sinew, the soldier suddenly swivelled his hip and delivered a punch in the same motion, sending a gauntleted fist into the creature's face even as the cleaver bit heavily into the granite wall. Roaring in pain, it stumbled back where it received a spear to the back as a soldier saw an opportunity. "Stand back!" Ellarian warned a fraction of a second too late. In its rage, the beast grabbed the offending soldier and smashed it against the Merlon twice before flinging him into the darkness. A roar of victory was cut off prematurely as it felt a sharp sucking pain in its hip. "You'll pay for that one!" Ellarian shouted as he drew back, letting the thick brackish blood drip from spear wound. Clutched in his hand was the spear the lad had stabbed into the creature before his untimely demise.
As if remembering the initial cause of its rage, the creature turned around and charged towards Ellarion again who, surprisingly, charged towards it as well. As the last second, he knelt down and braced his shield against a gap in the stones. As he felt the weight of the beast on the shield, he shifted his weight behind him and catapulted it over him where it slammed bodily onto the wall walk, snapping its primitive banner. Without a single break in his motion, Ellarion leapt atop him and drove the spear through its back, prompting a howl of agony. As its back muscles squirmed, Ellarion raised his shield up and slammed it back down onto the spear, driving it deeper into its thick flesh like a hammer and nail. Another strike saw the spear disappear halfway into its body. A final onemade the tip erupt out the other side in a shower if intestines. Spitting in contempt, Ellarion stepped off to the cheers of his comrades. "Tis too early to celebrate lads," he shouted as he surveyed the situation again. The other fronts were holding strong and, after seeing the death of their champion, the eastern wall assailants were beginning to falter. It was time to drive the point home. As he was about to take another step, he felt something tug on his leg. Looking down, he saw that the creature was stull alive as it tried to pull him back. "You're tough, I'll give you that," he said grudgingly as he kicked it in the face and turned it onto its back. Pressing a sabaton onto its chest, Ellarion raised his shield and stared down. "This time its the end." Like a guillotine, the shield fell.
A faint breeze ruffled Ellarion's beard. "It comes earlier than I expected..." he mused as the captain ran up to join him, who started as he stared at the grisly trophy clutched in his right arm. Still dripping from the rough cut, the beast's head was hanging by its hair from Ellarian's hand, sinew dragging out behind it. "You bear news, captain?" he asked as he saw a group of men bring a boiling pot of oil up the stairs and pour it over the edge. Screams of rage and pain echoed through the night as flesh sizzled, accompanied by its rank stench. Gulping, the Captain presented a barrel of white powder. "As per your orders, sir, the hellstones were milled and crushed to a powder," he said, "we have taken the liberty of distributing two barrels per wall." For the first time since their meeting, a small smile crested Ellarian's scarred lips. This man may have potential yet. "Tell me captain...what happens an hour after the Rings appear in this desert?" he asked somewhat rhetorically. There was a moment of pause as the Captain considered this, broken only by the sounds of conflict as the men held their attacks off. "The chill sets in?" he hazarded. Ellarian nodded. "And what does the chill require to spread its icy touch?" A brazier lit in the captain's mind. "Wind." Ellarian nodded again. "Give the orders."
As a sudden chill descended on the area, barrels were hoisted over the wall, emptying their contents over the edge. Those directly below screamed and hissed as the hellstone powder scorched their bodies and organs. "All soldiers, retreat to the mess hall!" Ellarian ordered, "well done today!"
"But there remains sub-humans to slay!" protested a soldier.
"Not any time soon, soldier, not until the dawn. That I will promise you." As if to punctuate that, the screaming grew more intense, accompanied by a strong breeze. "Now get indoors before it rises over the wall." There was no more argument as all the men began to trudge away, too tired and exhausted to offer much in the way of protest. Simply the promise of rest was tempting enough for them to stop fighting. Covering his nose and mouth with the tattered banner, Ellarian looked over the edge, ignoring the stinging sensation in his eyes. It was a swirling mass of grey and white. But more importantly, it was a sea of agony as the hellstone powder was tossed about by the wind into the sub-human ranks. Raising his arm, he brought up the severed head, now covered in a fine dusting of hellpowder. It radiated hatred, menace, power...but most importantly, it radiated heat. He had a theory, one which could possibly offer the Empire a new weapon for their wars...though it was a horrible thought. Amidst the swirling mists of powder, he spotted a shock of let black, bubbling oil. With a single well aimed toss, he sent the head tumbling into the mist, where it landed into the oil. With a sudden crack, the oil burst into flames. Ellarian turned away and began to descend the stairs.. Actually...it would be better if no-one knew about this...There was cruelty enough in war.
"Y-yes sir!" he said with a nod, before turning back to the work detail. "You heard him, prepare the mills!"
Joining the men at the top of the Northern wall, Ellarian was just in time to see the first sub-human wretch crest the wall, screaming his incomprehensible gibberish and brandishing a crude blade of bolted iron. To their credit, the shieldbearer assigned to that position reacted quickly, slamming his shield into his malformed face and sending him falling to his death. The spear meanwhile was busy stabbing at the ones still scaling the walls, spitting some on the point while sending others tumbling to their demise. "Remember that you need not slay them on the walls," Ellarian shouted as he patrolled the wall, keeping an eye on all sections. The main concentration of the enemy seemed to be on the eastern flank. That would be his next destination. "Remove their hands and they will die just as readily!" They had height working for them at least in this case, and a tumbling corpse was as useful as dropping a stone down on the people below anyway. As an enemy grabbed the rim of a shield, Ellarion shoved past the spearman and grabbed its wrist. It was a disgusting little waif, with a wrist covered in ochre and teeth filed down into points. Glaring down at it, Ellarion tightened his grip. With a sound akin to shattering glass, the sub-human's arm snapped and it let out a piercing scream for a split second, releasing the shield, before its head was dashed against the merlon with horrifying force. Contemptuously, Ellarian cast the corpse downwards where it knocked another screaming off of the wall. "You're doing well men! Just 20 more minutes!" he shouted. The men didn't know what he meant, but the prospect of victory within such a short deadline was so tempting that they went at their enemy with renewed vigour.
One of those infernal hellstones crashed against the eastern wall, scattering that damnable powder all over six men who began to scream as their flesh began to rapidly sear and redden while one man was thrown clear of the wall by a particularly large shard. "You three! Drag these men to the infirmary!" Ellarian shouted as he entered the section, "You and you! positions facing me!" Without question, the men obeyed, three of them dragging the six suffering soldiers away while the other two turned away from their positions on the wall and faced him, unsure of what they were to do "And you, call three soldiers from the west and north walls to replace these men!" A cannibal crested the wall as he finished giving orders. With a brutal punch, Ellarian send him spiralling into the crowd below with a broken jaw. In the same movement, he grabbed another by the scruff of its neck and dragged it up. He considered the creature in front of him for a second. Gaunt, pale and bald apart from a single long braid on his head, the creature hissed violently and fought to free itself, but to no avail. Instead, Ellarian reeled back his arm and hurled him hard against one of the shields, leaving a visceral smear across its silver surface as its skull shattered. "Sir!" one of the soldiers shouted. Raising his shield Ellarian parried a clumsy sword strike and sent his assailant reeling with a savage headbutt. As it fought to clear its head, Ellarian kicked it off of the wall and into the waiting mob below. "Focus on your own duties! It is only 15 more minutes" he bellowed as a particularly large sub-human crested the wall, "I will deal with this one personally."
It was a disgusting beast to be sure. Brutishly tall and muscled, it was covered with layers of ochre and carried a large, rusty cleaver in its ham-like fist. Its eyes were bloodshot and unfocussed, probably as a result of some sort of drug, and a fetish of bones was strung around two poles jutting from its back, between which hung a scrap of decorated flesh. "I'm about sure you're the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Ellarian remarked as he flexed his shoulder. In return, he received a blast of rancid, hot breath and spittle as it roared, beginning a charge. Taking the charge head on, Ellarian raised his shield in time to intercept the cleaver which rang heavily off of his shield and numbed his arm. Pitting sinew against sinew, the soldier suddenly swivelled his hip and delivered a punch in the same motion, sending a gauntleted fist into the creature's face even as the cleaver bit heavily into the granite wall. Roaring in pain, it stumbled back where it received a spear to the back as a soldier saw an opportunity. "Stand back!" Ellarian warned a fraction of a second too late. In its rage, the beast grabbed the offending soldier and smashed it against the Merlon twice before flinging him into the darkness. A roar of victory was cut off prematurely as it felt a sharp sucking pain in its hip. "You'll pay for that one!" Ellarian shouted as he drew back, letting the thick brackish blood drip from spear wound. Clutched in his hand was the spear the lad had stabbed into the creature before his untimely demise.
As if remembering the initial cause of its rage, the creature turned around and charged towards Ellarion again who, surprisingly, charged towards it as well. As the last second, he knelt down and braced his shield against a gap in the stones. As he felt the weight of the beast on the shield, he shifted his weight behind him and catapulted it over him where it slammed bodily onto the wall walk, snapping its primitive banner. Without a single break in his motion, Ellarion leapt atop him and drove the spear through its back, prompting a howl of agony. As its back muscles squirmed, Ellarion raised his shield up and slammed it back down onto the spear, driving it deeper into its thick flesh like a hammer and nail. Another strike saw the spear disappear halfway into its body. A final onemade the tip erupt out the other side in a shower if intestines. Spitting in contempt, Ellarion stepped off to the cheers of his comrades. "Tis too early to celebrate lads," he shouted as he surveyed the situation again. The other fronts were holding strong and, after seeing the death of their champion, the eastern wall assailants were beginning to falter. It was time to drive the point home. As he was about to take another step, he felt something tug on his leg. Looking down, he saw that the creature was stull alive as it tried to pull him back. "You're tough, I'll give you that," he said grudgingly as he kicked it in the face and turned it onto its back. Pressing a sabaton onto its chest, Ellarion raised his shield and stared down. "This time its the end." Like a guillotine, the shield fell.
A faint breeze ruffled Ellarion's beard. "It comes earlier than I expected..." he mused as the captain ran up to join him, who started as he stared at the grisly trophy clutched in his right arm. Still dripping from the rough cut, the beast's head was hanging by its hair from Ellarian's hand, sinew dragging out behind it. "You bear news, captain?" he asked as he saw a group of men bring a boiling pot of oil up the stairs and pour it over the edge. Screams of rage and pain echoed through the night as flesh sizzled, accompanied by its rank stench. Gulping, the Captain presented a barrel of white powder. "As per your orders, sir, the hellstones were milled and crushed to a powder," he said, "we have taken the liberty of distributing two barrels per wall." For the first time since their meeting, a small smile crested Ellarian's scarred lips. This man may have potential yet. "Tell me captain...what happens an hour after the Rings appear in this desert?" he asked somewhat rhetorically. There was a moment of pause as the Captain considered this, broken only by the sounds of conflict as the men held their attacks off. "The chill sets in?" he hazarded. Ellarian nodded. "And what does the chill require to spread its icy touch?" A brazier lit in the captain's mind. "Wind." Ellarian nodded again. "Give the orders."
As a sudden chill descended on the area, barrels were hoisted over the wall, emptying their contents over the edge. Those directly below screamed and hissed as the hellstone powder scorched their bodies and organs. "All soldiers, retreat to the mess hall!" Ellarian ordered, "well done today!"
"But there remains sub-humans to slay!" protested a soldier.
"Not any time soon, soldier, not until the dawn. That I will promise you." As if to punctuate that, the screaming grew more intense, accompanied by a strong breeze. "Now get indoors before it rises over the wall." There was no more argument as all the men began to trudge away, too tired and exhausted to offer much in the way of protest. Simply the promise of rest was tempting enough for them to stop fighting. Covering his nose and mouth with the tattered banner, Ellarian looked over the edge, ignoring the stinging sensation in his eyes. It was a swirling mass of grey and white. But more importantly, it was a sea of agony as the hellstone powder was tossed about by the wind into the sub-human ranks. Raising his arm, he brought up the severed head, now covered in a fine dusting of hellpowder. It radiated hatred, menace, power...but most importantly, it radiated heat. He had a theory, one which could possibly offer the Empire a new weapon for their wars...though it was a horrible thought. Amidst the swirling mists of powder, he spotted a shock of let black, bubbling oil. With a single well aimed toss, he sent the head tumbling into the mist, where it landed into the oil. With a sudden crack, the oil burst into flames. Ellarian turned away and began to descend the stairs.. Actually...it would be better if no-one knew about this...There was cruelty enough in war.
Running a gauntleted hand through his beard, Ellarian considered the Captain's words. These sub-men...if they were as savage and barbaric as he had said then they had no right to the lives they possessed. A different culture they may be, but to attempt to push onto Empire lands...that was unforgivable. "The king is a fool then," Ellarian stated plainly, taking the Captain by surprise. In all of his epics and legends, Ellarian was fiercely loyal to the king and would abide by his orders no matter what. The large man looked at the captain. "I am loyal only to the Kingdom, not the King himself," he stated plainly, as if guessing the captain's state of mind, "that means I am loyal to the people and their plight." With that, he returned to his strategic planning. "What do we have at our disposal?" he asked after a moment of silence as he began to climb the stairs to the parapet. The captain mentally calculated their forces. "Close to 800 fatigued men remaining in fighting condition, although they will most definitely be invigorated by your presence," he said with a small smile. A look from Ellarian wiped it straight off of his face. Clearing his throat, the captain continued. "Apart from that, we have two ballistae at our disposal and enough equipment to be sure we are not found unarmed."
Looking over the parapet, Ellarian spotted the enemy host. A warband of humanoids, they sneered up at him as he looked down the line. A small rock cracked against his pauldron, and he thought nothing of it until he felt a burning sensation on his skin. "My L- Sir! Are you alright!?" the captain asked as Ellarian's face twitched. Stooping down, the latter picked up the stone. "What is this?" he asked as his cheek continued to sting. It was a white stone which crumbled easily to powder in his gauntleted hand. "We know not sir," the captain admitted, sheepishly looking away, "we only know of its effects." Standing back up, Ellarian looked towards him expectantly. "Men touched by this cursed stone complain of burning sensations and being blinded and choked. They complain of their lungs being set aflame and noses being seared beyond use, as well as burns across their bodies...the subhumans have been bombarding us with these hellstones using their catapults..." Letting the odd white powder run through his hand, Ellarian narrowed his eyes. What was this mysterious substance... Nevertheless, he stood back up. He was a soldier, not an apothecary. The gods had brought him back to defend this outpost, not gawk at mysterious white powder. "Form the men up," Ellarian said as he began to descend the stairs, "I would have words with them.
Arrayed in front of him were 700 odd men, the rest being positioned as sentries on the walls. While they tried to maintain parade standards, he could tell that their bodies were aching with fatigue. Slowly pacing around, Ellarian stopped at the first rank. "First rank, second rank, drop spears," he said suddenly. Initially confused, the men lowered their spears to the ground. "third rank, fourth rank, drop spears," he continued. The second rank did the same. "Congratulations, you are now shieldbearers," he declared, pacing back to the front and adressing the soldiers, "you job now is not to kill, but to protect. Your man on your left is your brother, your father, your comrade, your favourite brewer," he explained, eliciting a few chuckles, "it matters not who they really are, for they are your brethren now. To let him fall is to let you yourself fall. Protect the men to your left and right, and they will do the same. The first and second ranks looked at each other nervously, not sure what to do with this information. "Am I clear?" Ellarian demanded. "Sir, yes Sir!" they unanimously replied. Satisfied, Ellarian paced behind them. "Every other rank, drop shields," he said commandingly, to which the other four ranks obeyed in a clatter of metal, gripping their remaining spears with both hands. "You are now the spearmen behind the shieldbearers. Trust in them to protect you and focus on killing the enemy. Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" was the reply again. Ellarian nodded, returning to the front. "Remember your positions now. First and fith ranks will move together to defend the Northern wall. Second and sixth the east. Third and seventh the west, and fourth and eighth the south." Does everyone understand their new positions?" There was a great raucous noise as they confirmed. Ellarian nodded. "Dismissed." As one, they all collapsed to the ground, aiming to get as much rest as they possibly could. He didn't mind. He in fact wanted to join them, but he had other matters to attend to. "Captain," he called as he began to walk off, "Call the work details, equip them with gloves. I want them to collect EVERY one of those white stones..."
Looking over the parapet, Ellarian spotted the enemy host. A warband of humanoids, they sneered up at him as he looked down the line. A small rock cracked against his pauldron, and he thought nothing of it until he felt a burning sensation on his skin. "My L- Sir! Are you alright!?" the captain asked as Ellarian's face twitched. Stooping down, the latter picked up the stone. "What is this?" he asked as his cheek continued to sting. It was a white stone which crumbled easily to powder in his gauntleted hand. "We know not sir," the captain admitted, sheepishly looking away, "we only know of its effects." Standing back up, Ellarian looked towards him expectantly. "Men touched by this cursed stone complain of burning sensations and being blinded and choked. They complain of their lungs being set aflame and noses being seared beyond use, as well as burns across their bodies...the subhumans have been bombarding us with these hellstones using their catapults..." Letting the odd white powder run through his hand, Ellarian narrowed his eyes. What was this mysterious substance... Nevertheless, he stood back up. He was a soldier, not an apothecary. The gods had brought him back to defend this outpost, not gawk at mysterious white powder. "Form the men up," Ellarian said as he began to descend the stairs, "I would have words with them.
Arrayed in front of him were 700 odd men, the rest being positioned as sentries on the walls. While they tried to maintain parade standards, he could tell that their bodies were aching with fatigue. Slowly pacing around, Ellarian stopped at the first rank. "First rank, second rank, drop spears," he said suddenly. Initially confused, the men lowered their spears to the ground. "third rank, fourth rank, drop spears," he continued. The second rank did the same. "Congratulations, you are now shieldbearers," he declared, pacing back to the front and adressing the soldiers, "you job now is not to kill, but to protect. Your man on your left is your brother, your father, your comrade, your favourite brewer," he explained, eliciting a few chuckles, "it matters not who they really are, for they are your brethren now. To let him fall is to let you yourself fall. Protect the men to your left and right, and they will do the same. The first and second ranks looked at each other nervously, not sure what to do with this information. "Am I clear?" Ellarian demanded. "Sir, yes Sir!" they unanimously replied. Satisfied, Ellarian paced behind them. "Every other rank, drop shields," he said commandingly, to which the other four ranks obeyed in a clatter of metal, gripping their remaining spears with both hands. "You are now the spearmen behind the shieldbearers. Trust in them to protect you and focus on killing the enemy. Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" was the reply again. Ellarian nodded, returning to the front. "Remember your positions now. First and fith ranks will move together to defend the Northern wall. Second and sixth the east. Third and seventh the west, and fourth and eighth the south." Does everyone understand their new positions?" There was a great raucous noise as they confirmed. Ellarian nodded. "Dismissed." As one, they all collapsed to the ground, aiming to get as much rest as they possibly could. He didn't mind. He in fact wanted to join them, but he had other matters to attend to. "Captain," he called as he began to walk off, "Call the work details, equip them with gloves. I want them to collect EVERY one of those white stones..."
Ellarian considered the man before him. Grizzled in the way that only veterans were, he refused to make eye contact no matter how long the former stared. For a long, agonizing moment, Ellarian said nothing, simply gazing at the close cropped black hair of the Captain and then to the soldiers behind him who each averted their gaze as his stony brown eyes swept across them. He looked back down at the captain as he stood up to his full height. In the intervening time between the conscript running off and the gaggle of soldiers returning, he had managed to fashion himself a primitive loincloth from a burial shroud that had been under him so that at least he had some dignity as he left his stone capsule.
"Stand, Captain," he croaked as he stood before the man, his tone harsh with the grating of a partially atrophied larynx, "I am no-one's lord. I am but a mere soldier, like you." In response, the Captain stood, but still refused to meet his gaze, instead staring at the floor. "Meet my eyes, Captain," he demanded, leaving no room for argument. After a brief moment of hesitation, the man looked up and gazed into Ellarian's dark brown eyes. Where most people would be ambe to divine some sort of meaning from this, the Captain could not pierce far enough into his eyes. Those windows into the soul, usually so vulnerable, had become walls in their own right and yet they possessed a fierceness unmet by the most fiery of barbarians the Captain had met in battle. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he broke away. At the same time, Ellarian closed his eyes and lightly shook his head. It wasn't that the captain was a bad man...he was a captain for a reason, but apparently they had lowered their standards. In that single moment, he had weighed, measured and analysed the captain. And he had been found wanting. Looking up, he examined the other soldiers that had gathered at the door, each of which refused to meet his gaze. He felt the bile rise in his throat. Had the empire grown this weak in the time he was gone? He looked back to the captain, who re-established eye contact.
"That I should be ripped from my eternal slumber," he said, his ire beginning to become palpable, thickening the air to the consistency of molasses, "and be cast back into the forge of war..." He stroked his beard, letting out a heavy sigh, "The empire must have dire need of me again." With that one single sentence, all the pressure in the room dropped. What was that old term that had haunted him for so long? There was no rest for the wicked? Either way, it seemed that he would not receive the peaceful end he had always hoped for. He disliked, nay despised being back in the realm of the living, the time of war, endless death and greed. But if he could alleviate some of that suffering by his mere presence...then let it be done. "Show me to the armory," he said as he began to walk towards the exit of the crypt.
At the doorway, he paused and looked behind him as a flash of red caught his eye. Draped over another grave was a tattered banner, its colour rapidly fading but the symbol unmistakable. Walking back towards it, he stopped at the foot of the grave. 'Here lies Dorian Crosser, banner bearer of the 12th Imperial Legion.'
"We meet again, old friend" Ellarian said fondly as he brushed the dust off of the engraving. There was a certain sadness about him as he ran his wizened fingers over the stone, but it was soon replaced by professionalism. With something akin to reverance Ellarian plucked the banner off of the grave, releasing a torrent of dust. "Allow me to bring our Legion glory," he said as he draped it over his arm, "one...one more time." Turning back to the door, he pointed out. "Lead the way, Captain." On their way up, a thought occured to him. "Captain...what year is it?" he asked as he continued up the stairs.
"Approximately 1023 seasonal cycles since the unification of Ansus," he replied. Ellarian's eyes widened momentarily. It...was done? It was finally united? A smile crept its way across his lips. People had finally come to their senses and realised that there was no point killing other people..."I see..." he mused as he took another step, a small bound appearing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pulling violently on the leather strap, Ellarian tightened the pauldron onto his shoulder as he geared up for war. He had to say, what these men lacked in discipline and grit, they made up for in metallurgy. They wore armour of polished silver, though they claimed it was something called 'Steel'. It mattered not though, if they did not have the power to back it up they might as well have just been walking containers of meat. After venturing deep into the armoury, despite the captain's protests, Ellarian had found what he had been looking for. The familiar weight of black iron was comforting in a way despite its obvious drawbacks. Brushing a bit of dust off of his breastplate, the stocky man lumbered out of the armory bedecked in full ancient black iron, surprising many of the other soldiers who resembled the metal barrels that the coopers had been churning out. A large black shield dominated his left side, its mere size making it look unwieldy. Unlike the Captain's armour he was usually depicted as wearing, this one was much more plain. But he liked it better this way. Apart from the red ranner draped across his shoulders, he was the spitting image of his murals.
"Men!" he shouted, as if he had become the new leader already, "Form ranks!" Turning to the captain beside him, he looked down. "NOw tell me captain, what do you mean by sub-men. Give me the details."
"Stand, Captain," he croaked as he stood before the man, his tone harsh with the grating of a partially atrophied larynx, "I am no-one's lord. I am but a mere soldier, like you." In response, the Captain stood, but still refused to meet his gaze, instead staring at the floor. "Meet my eyes, Captain," he demanded, leaving no room for argument. After a brief moment of hesitation, the man looked up and gazed into Ellarian's dark brown eyes. Where most people would be ambe to divine some sort of meaning from this, the Captain could not pierce far enough into his eyes. Those windows into the soul, usually so vulnerable, had become walls in their own right and yet they possessed a fierceness unmet by the most fiery of barbarians the Captain had met in battle. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he broke away. At the same time, Ellarian closed his eyes and lightly shook his head. It wasn't that the captain was a bad man...he was a captain for a reason, but apparently they had lowered their standards. In that single moment, he had weighed, measured and analysed the captain. And he had been found wanting. Looking up, he examined the other soldiers that had gathered at the door, each of which refused to meet his gaze. He felt the bile rise in his throat. Had the empire grown this weak in the time he was gone? He looked back to the captain, who re-established eye contact.
"That I should be ripped from my eternal slumber," he said, his ire beginning to become palpable, thickening the air to the consistency of molasses, "and be cast back into the forge of war..." He stroked his beard, letting out a heavy sigh, "The empire must have dire need of me again." With that one single sentence, all the pressure in the room dropped. What was that old term that had haunted him for so long? There was no rest for the wicked? Either way, it seemed that he would not receive the peaceful end he had always hoped for. He disliked, nay despised being back in the realm of the living, the time of war, endless death and greed. But if he could alleviate some of that suffering by his mere presence...then let it be done. "Show me to the armory," he said as he began to walk towards the exit of the crypt.
At the doorway, he paused and looked behind him as a flash of red caught his eye. Draped over another grave was a tattered banner, its colour rapidly fading but the symbol unmistakable. Walking back towards it, he stopped at the foot of the grave. 'Here lies Dorian Crosser, banner bearer of the 12th Imperial Legion.'
"We meet again, old friend" Ellarian said fondly as he brushed the dust off of the engraving. There was a certain sadness about him as he ran his wizened fingers over the stone, but it was soon replaced by professionalism. With something akin to reverance Ellarian plucked the banner off of the grave, releasing a torrent of dust. "Allow me to bring our Legion glory," he said as he draped it over his arm, "one...one more time." Turning back to the door, he pointed out. "Lead the way, Captain." On their way up, a thought occured to him. "Captain...what year is it?" he asked as he continued up the stairs.
"Approximately 1023 seasonal cycles since the unification of Ansus," he replied. Ellarian's eyes widened momentarily. It...was done? It was finally united? A smile crept its way across his lips. People had finally come to their senses and realised that there was no point killing other people..."I see..." he mused as he took another step, a small bound appearing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pulling violently on the leather strap, Ellarian tightened the pauldron onto his shoulder as he geared up for war. He had to say, what these men lacked in discipline and grit, they made up for in metallurgy. They wore armour of polished silver, though they claimed it was something called 'Steel'. It mattered not though, if they did not have the power to back it up they might as well have just been walking containers of meat. After venturing deep into the armoury, despite the captain's protests, Ellarian had found what he had been looking for. The familiar weight of black iron was comforting in a way despite its obvious drawbacks. Brushing a bit of dust off of his breastplate, the stocky man lumbered out of the armory bedecked in full ancient black iron, surprising many of the other soldiers who resembled the metal barrels that the coopers had been churning out. A large black shield dominated his left side, its mere size making it look unwieldy. Unlike the Captain's armour he was usually depicted as wearing, this one was much more plain. But he liked it better this way. Apart from the red ranner draped across his shoulders, he was the spitting image of his murals.
"Men!" he shouted, as if he had become the new leader already, "Form ranks!" Turning to the captain beside him, he looked down. "NOw tell me captain, what do you mean by sub-men. Give me the details."
@Harbringer In fairness I have plans for everyone, but I plan on having extra fun times with you.
*sighs*
*bends over*
Have at it.
@Harbringer Still got to find yourself a huge chunk of metal for a shield. I have plans for youuuu.
This is NEVER a good thing when a GM says it.
This is the good thing about being a soldier. I have NO legendary artifacts to recover.
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