Also didn't know this was up until the other thread got bumped. I'll work on a CS this weekend.
NickTrano
Member
The Hero You Deserve
STATUS: Can't figure out how to set my timezone. This is getting frustrating. 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
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Username history
- NickTrano 9 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
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Can't figure out how to set my timezone. This is getting frustrating.
Bio
I like fantasy and sci-fi. Some of my favorite series include Wheel of Time and the Stormlight Archive. Also, Terry Goodkind sucks. Just read Ayn Rand if you want to read Ayn Rand.
RP's I'm currently involved in:
Blood Debt (Fantasy, rebellion lead by a group of rangers).
RP's I'm currently involved in:
Blood Debt (Fantasy, rebellion lead by a group of rangers).
Most Recent Posts
Copy.
That sounds pretty fucking sick.
I'll try to post by tomorrow, time permitting. I haven't read all the posts up till now, so if it takes too long that might be another day. But we'll see if I can't help with the narrative inertia I saw ya'll complaining about in the Skype.
Interested. Could write a corpsman or something perhaps. Haven't done any hard military stuff and I'm POG as fuck (and in the Navy for that matter), so I'd need some learnin'. I'd be down for some not-so-distant future stuff. War with China from the perspective on the ground?
Dudebro, brodude... I like the character.
The letter from Sachevia arrived on a crow, cawing Loden's name. Typical, Varrick thought, The witch never hurt for style. Varrick had a healthy distrust for the scheming and self-serving witches, and he considered Sachevia only marginally better. Still, in the war to come he knew they'd need all the help they could get. Even if he hated taking it.
With the location of Brand's corpse now known, Brand's children stormed through the forest at Ashira's heels to reach it. There were about thirty men in the caravan, and a few of them were knights. Varrick recognized the banners of Rike, Stonewood, and Burnes. Local houses, and not particularly powerful. Varrick knew the youngest of them - the squire, Daved Rike. In years past, Varrick had been taken on by House Rike as a hedge knight. The young man was a brat, but quick with a sword; probably close to taking his knighthood. Varrick knew who he would be killing.
After final preparations were made, and Loden offered his words of encouragement, the battle was joined. Varrick stood along with Masef and Beren, loosing arrows into the neat lines of troops. Bodkins pierced mail and sometimes plate, dropping men to the ground. In moments the calm caravan turned from an organized march to utter chaos, as men and horses scrambled for cover. Wordlessly, Varrick dropped the longbow and charged, drawing his unnamed blade and dropping the visor of his helmet as he did so.
There were few men between Varrick and his target, but he cut them down all the same. One died without even drawing his mace, an overhead swing splitting his skull to the bridge of his nose. Another swung and missed before losing an arm and then his guts. The last simply ran away, and Varrick let him go.
"Daved!" Varrick called as he reached the squire, causing him to whip around. He had been walking his horse, and had no time to remount before an arrow pierced its neck. "You're working for the king now."
The squire's smirk belied his pale face. "So what if I am? He's not the one who died begging for his life." He drew his sword and came to the ready. "Actually, that sounds a lot like your what old ranger friend did."
Varrick flourished his blade. "It's going to be fun killing you, Daved."
"Likewise," the squire shouted as he charged.
The first swing came quick, and Varrick caught it on the flat of his sword before it could connect with his throat. The squire tried to score a killing blow on his first strike. He was fast; he almost succeeded. The second and third blows weren't far behind, but the squire overextended himself and Varrick slammed his gauntleted fist into Daved's face, sending blood spurting from his nose. The squire disengaged.
One of the many men at arms chose that moment to come to his master's aid. Swinging a mace, he charged the knight. Varrick was ready for him, and sidestepped the blow before burying the point of his bastard sword in his chest. The man dropped to the ground like a rag doll, but not before sending a frustrating stream of blood to soak Varrick's sleeve. Not that the knight had a chance to complain; he had a squire to kill.
"It's a shame you're never going to see that knighthood, Daved," Varrick spat. He didn't give him a chance to respond, though, before beginning his own assault. Hammering with his blade, he gave the squire no chance to attack. He swung hard from the right and chipped the squire's sword, the vibration of the blow numbing his hand. Before the squire could respond, Varrick pushed forwards and pressed Daved's blade against his chest using his shoulder.
Daved looked confused for a moment, before Varrick sprung back and stomped the squire's left knee cap. Even if he still had the use of his leg, the pain would have been enough to make him drop. Varrick stood over his defeated opponent and raised his sword. "See? I told you it would be fun." He plunged the blade into Daved's neck, through the spine, and into the ground. It only took moments for the light to fade from his eyes.
Varrick retrieved his sword, and turned to face his next opponent. He saw a knight standing near a wagon, and was about to charge when he heard an unfamiliar voice cry out. "Blood cries for blood! Cut them down to the last man, my brothers and sisters!"
After a couple seconds, it came to him. Gods, Varrick thought, it's Hara. The half-Drow had always been a little overwrought, Varrick knew, and it seemed Brand's death hadn't taken that away from him. A battle cry, he thought, what is this? A story?
Even if the story book antics bothered Varrick, he couldn't fault what came after. Within a few strikes, there was a dagger straight through the knight's chest and out his back - through both plates. Varrick found himself impressed with the strength such a deed took. In the time he spent watching Hara fight, another pair of men at arms decided to make Varrick their target. Their numbers were growing thin, and as they charged him one of Ashira's arrows took one in the neck, dropping him permanently.
The other recoiled from his fallen friend, but kept charging. Varrick respected his bravery - even if that wouldn't stop him from killing the man. The man at arms was barely ten feet from closing with Varrick when another arrow took him in the chest. He nearly tripped, but held his footing. Varrick sighed, it must have been Loden this time. He stepped forward and with a single swing, separated the man's head from his shoulders.
Varrick looked around. The battle was won; the final few defenders were either surrendering or in the process of dying to one of Varrick's siblings. He wiped his nameless blade on one of the king's men's cloaks, and sheathed it.
@Naril @POOHEAD189 @Gunther @NickTrano @AirBender @HeySeuss @Noxious @Flagg @R31GN
With the location of Brand's corpse now known, Brand's children stormed through the forest at Ashira's heels to reach it. There were about thirty men in the caravan, and a few of them were knights. Varrick recognized the banners of Rike, Stonewood, and Burnes. Local houses, and not particularly powerful. Varrick knew the youngest of them - the squire, Daved Rike. In years past, Varrick had been taken on by House Rike as a hedge knight. The young man was a brat, but quick with a sword; probably close to taking his knighthood. Varrick knew who he would be killing.
After final preparations were made, and Loden offered his words of encouragement, the battle was joined. Varrick stood along with Masef and Beren, loosing arrows into the neat lines of troops. Bodkins pierced mail and sometimes plate, dropping men to the ground. In moments the calm caravan turned from an organized march to utter chaos, as men and horses scrambled for cover. Wordlessly, Varrick dropped the longbow and charged, drawing his unnamed blade and dropping the visor of his helmet as he did so.
There were few men between Varrick and his target, but he cut them down all the same. One died without even drawing his mace, an overhead swing splitting his skull to the bridge of his nose. Another swung and missed before losing an arm and then his guts. The last simply ran away, and Varrick let him go.
"Daved!" Varrick called as he reached the squire, causing him to whip around. He had been walking his horse, and had no time to remount before an arrow pierced its neck. "You're working for the king now."
The squire's smirk belied his pale face. "So what if I am? He's not the one who died begging for his life." He drew his sword and came to the ready. "Actually, that sounds a lot like your what old ranger friend did."
Varrick flourished his blade. "It's going to be fun killing you, Daved."
"Likewise," the squire shouted as he charged.
The first swing came quick, and Varrick caught it on the flat of his sword before it could connect with his throat. The squire tried to score a killing blow on his first strike. He was fast; he almost succeeded. The second and third blows weren't far behind, but the squire overextended himself and Varrick slammed his gauntleted fist into Daved's face, sending blood spurting from his nose. The squire disengaged.
One of the many men at arms chose that moment to come to his master's aid. Swinging a mace, he charged the knight. Varrick was ready for him, and sidestepped the blow before burying the point of his bastard sword in his chest. The man dropped to the ground like a rag doll, but not before sending a frustrating stream of blood to soak Varrick's sleeve. Not that the knight had a chance to complain; he had a squire to kill.
"It's a shame you're never going to see that knighthood, Daved," Varrick spat. He didn't give him a chance to respond, though, before beginning his own assault. Hammering with his blade, he gave the squire no chance to attack. He swung hard from the right and chipped the squire's sword, the vibration of the blow numbing his hand. Before the squire could respond, Varrick pushed forwards and pressed Daved's blade against his chest using his shoulder.
Daved looked confused for a moment, before Varrick sprung back and stomped the squire's left knee cap. Even if he still had the use of his leg, the pain would have been enough to make him drop. Varrick stood over his defeated opponent and raised his sword. "See? I told you it would be fun." He plunged the blade into Daved's neck, through the spine, and into the ground. It only took moments for the light to fade from his eyes.
Varrick retrieved his sword, and turned to face his next opponent. He saw a knight standing near a wagon, and was about to charge when he heard an unfamiliar voice cry out. "Blood cries for blood! Cut them down to the last man, my brothers and sisters!"
After a couple seconds, it came to him. Gods, Varrick thought, it's Hara. The half-Drow had always been a little overwrought, Varrick knew, and it seemed Brand's death hadn't taken that away from him. A battle cry, he thought, what is this? A story?
Even if the story book antics bothered Varrick, he couldn't fault what came after. Within a few strikes, there was a dagger straight through the knight's chest and out his back - through both plates. Varrick found himself impressed with the strength such a deed took. In the time he spent watching Hara fight, another pair of men at arms decided to make Varrick their target. Their numbers were growing thin, and as they charged him one of Ashira's arrows took one in the neck, dropping him permanently.
The other recoiled from his fallen friend, but kept charging. Varrick respected his bravery - even if that wouldn't stop him from killing the man. The man at arms was barely ten feet from closing with Varrick when another arrow took him in the chest. He nearly tripped, but held his footing. Varrick sighed, it must have been Loden this time. He stepped forward and with a single swing, separated the man's head from his shoulders.
Varrick looked around. The battle was won; the final few defenders were either surrendering or in the process of dying to one of Varrick's siblings. He wiped his nameless blade on one of the king's men's cloaks, and sheathed it.
@Naril @POOHEAD189 @Gunther @NickTrano @AirBender @HeySeuss @Noxious @Flagg @R31GN
I'll try, but I'm currently visiting my family for the last chance I'll get for probably a year or more. Once this weekend's over I'll be completely free.
Interesting. Don't think Varrick likes her.
EDIT: Also, I think it's about time our characters actually get together and figure out what the heck they're going to do.
EDIT: Also, I think it's about time our characters actually get together and figure out what the heck they're going to do.
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