Death of an Empire RP
| Author | Topic: Death of an Empire RP |
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BANNED
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written Thursday, October 27 2005 16:44
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Major- what a joke. The noise of semi-cadets stomping through gravel-lined paths up the slope almost made as much storm as the maelstrom that had enveloped the mountain. Lightning and thunder resounded and shined through the seemingly inhospitable evening. In any other climate, Clyde's patrol would have been discovered by an enemy platoon of rangers from above and perforated. It was a stroke of luck. Then, he heard a gunshot. Shouts in a foreign tongue from above him. He looked up to see a frightened R.D.U. Private attempting to reload his musket. Pointing the tip of his pet axe towards the man, Clyde shouted at the top of his lungs, "CHARGE!" Some of his men went directly behind him, while others tried to go around the side. Clyde was fairly certain that he would be fighting this one by himself. Suddenly, there was a second gunshot. Clyde looked to his left, and he saw a private's helmet peeking above a medium-sized boulder. Another private tried to push gun back down. R.D.U. Army... What a joke. These are just kids. Clyde slipped on the wet gravel, however. His metal plate meant that he was relatively uninjured, but his troops thought that he was injured. Fortunately, the first private who started the skirmish began running. Clyde got back onto his feet and chased the runt down. The private, no older than 16 at the most, let out a blood-curdling shriek before Clyde lopped the boy's head off. "Jikpan! Jikpan gegar!" Being in the military is like learning the conversational language of desperation used by your enemy. Clyde knew from multiple experiences in the past that "Jikpan" meant "saltpeter", and "Jikpan gegar" meant "We're out of saltpeter". Saltpeter was not uncommon in these parts, but enemy combatants hadn't the slightest idea where to obtain any. It, perhaps, was the only advantage Clyde's men had, but it would decide the day. Walking towards the boulder, both privates threw their presumably useless guns down the mountain, standing up with both hands on their chest. This was the Royal Democratic Union of Drexar's version of "I/We surrender!". Clyde paced towards them with his axe down. Relieved, the private on the left let his hands drop. Clyde stood in front of the two sternly, and in the best tone he could manage, said, "Tratan tra. (It's okay.) Mashi-mashi. (Run along.)" Before he was finished, the private on the left grabbed a shiv and moved quickly towards Clyde. The private's shiv struck the leather, but was surprised to find the metal that Clyde wore beneath it. His R.D.U. issued shiv snapped: If it was one thing Clyde prided himself on, it was his ability to smith. Before the private had time to turn around, Clyde chopped him off at the ears, letting his brains fly. The other private couldn't move. Clyde stormed over to him angrily and punched him squarely in the face, knocking the kid out cold. One of his privates eager for glory ran over to the R.D.U. private and stabbed the poor boy in the jugular; Clyde let him. It was not the obligation of the Holstoff Wyvern Empire to save the lives of enemy combatants. Suddenly, as if on cue, an arrow from the skies hit the ground near the two privates. A complete miss. Clyde said, "Private Scott, get down here immediately!" The wyvern-riding scout landed as best he could and dismounted. As if stating the not immediately obvious, he said, "Major Clyde, sir! Enemy gunmen!" Clyde cussed briefly. "No, no. Major Clyde, there's ten more of them above the ridge." Suddenly, Clyde became concerned. Surely, they would be coming this way. Grabbing Scott by his lapels, he demanded, "Where are the gliders? Did you find the gliders?" Scott cocked his head between both shoulders, the Imperial confirmation motion. Clyde turned to his six men, including the wyvern rider. "Listen, boys! There's enemies coming. Lots of them. Run away, but remember to fire off some parting shots to slow their progress. I'll take care of the gliders." A gunshot hit the ground. Oh, great. Just like Scott, telling us we're screwed when we're already bending over. Clyde pushed Scott aside, grabbed his bow and arrows, lept onto the wyvern and pulled on the reins. The wyvern ascended, while a few gunshots went past it. Lightning sounded off in the distance, as the wyvern's leathery wings struggled to beat back the wind. Fortunately, the wind was blowing up the mountain, making it ideal for flying creatures. Unfortunately, it was also equally beneficial for the R.D.U. gliders that were soon to take flight. ... The Wyvern Empire, a power that hasn't left its borders in over a hundred tears, has been at war with the Royal Democratic Union for roughly six months. Already, the outer provinces have been "liberated". Fortunately, the R.D.U. has hit an impasse with attempting to conquer the capital. Not only is it Imperial storm season, but the Imperial Air Force's wyverns are navigationally superior to the R.D.U. glyders. Unfortunately, the troops from Drexar show no sign of stopping, and the brave men of Holstoff aren't inexhaustible. The R.D.U. is ruthless. They will hold prisoner exchanges to bait officers into ambushes. They will attempt to poison water supplies. They will hold whole villages as bargaining chips. Dead soldiers are used as battle standards to demoralize the Holstoff army. But this doesn't matter one bit to Clyde; he's an Imperial officer for two reasons: He was forced into the service, and he has a family to protect at home that will be executed for treason if he deserts the army. As far as he is concerned, the rest of the world can crumble. ---- There are rules for Death of an Empire. They are as follows: 1. Your character has to be mortal, suffering injuries just as readily as any other human being. Surviving unlikely situations is acceptable given rationale, but surviving outright impossible situations is not allowed. 2. The culture for this RP is mostly European. No Scimitars, Katanas, et cetera. 3. If you DIE, you are DEAD. Revivals are impossible. On the up-side, if your first character dies, you may make another. 4. Characters- especially those under thirty- rarely have more than one area of specialization. You cannot be a mage/warrior/archer and not be deficient in all three. 5. No abilities/genealogies that are either completely absurd or unmentioned up to the point they are introduced. Non-humans are NOT allowed. Zephyr, I'm looking at YOU. 6. Any drama has to pass face value. No complete absurdities. Zephyr, I'm looking at YOU. 7. Magic exists, but is rare. A mage with enough talent to produce fireballs is not unheard of, but is also not very prevalent. Teleportation is completely unheard of. Healing exists in severely limited forms- sealing open wounds, assisting in broken bones, et cetera. Loss of organs or whole appendages cannot be cured. 8. Any rules not covered by the others are up to my discretion. (Essentially, if you do something completely absurd that ISN'T in the rules, you can't claim a coy innocence- and even if you do, it won't work.) 9. If this RP sucks worse than any others, pretend I never started it. ~_~ Feel free to introduce your character as a private on the ground, another wyvern rider fighting the gliders, et cetera. The technology is limited to early muskets and pistols, meaning that firearms take considerable time to reload. Playing as a soldier in the H.W.E. is equally as feasible as playing as one in the R.D.U. [ Thursday, October 27, 2005 16:47: Message edited by: Ima ni TM wo Bakuretsu Shite ] -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 5450
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written Thursday, October 27 2005 20:02
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Ha ha. That will teach those R.D.U bastards. A stabbing. Liam is a strange young man, who was conscripted into the army. He didn't care, he was going to join anyawy. Liam has hints of insanity showing through his otherwise passive disposition, and his body laungauge suggests that he is eager for killing. Most people know this, however, as he brags about the people he has killed. --- He has a strange desire for killing, and he got the oppurtunity when his Major, Clyde, knocked out some R.D.U kid. A stab killed them. Those stupid R.D.U's deserve what they get. Major Clyde ordered them to flee, and Liam hesitantly obeyed. He wanted them to all die. Nevertheless he follwed. They turned and ran, occasionly shooting over their backs. At this rate, it was going to be a long war. EDIT: Basic CD: Name: Liam Magstein. Age: 21 Skills: Excellent shooter, good in hand-to-hand/close combat, poor archer. Average strategist. Advantages: Strong upper arms, strong legs, tough skin. Disadvantages: Weak immune system; often prone to catch colds in all temperature ranges. Partly insane. [ Thursday, October 27, 2005 20:11: Message edited by: Spring ] -------------------- Mugglenet--The ULTIMATE Harry Potter Site. Polaris-- New location. Posts: 2396 | Registered: Saturday, January 29 2005 08:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Friday, October 28 2005 05:53
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I like the character description. Anyway, since I figure a demonstration of a mage's power might be needed for context... ---- Clyde let the wyvern hover in place as his eyes darted right to left, looking for the launch pad for the gliders. Suddenly, he found it when he heard the distinctive launching sound of two gliders. Yanking hard on the reins of the wyvern, he flew as best as he could. (Despite the weather, or perhaps because of it, this was actually quite well. Being a peddler of his own wares, he had limited experience with husbandry.) He whipped out Scott's bow and arrows and took aim. The first shot was a miss, but the gliders took it in stride. Perhaps they were too inept to have noticed it. Well... More power to me. Wanting to end things quickly, Clyde sent his wyvern at top speed towards the two gliders. He was noticed, but before his enemies had the chance to act, Clyde used his arrows to tear through the wings of one of them, sending him towards the ground. The other glider circled around rather than making an attack run on the city. Laughing at his own luck, Clyde reached for his axe and made a charge at the glider. The R.D.U. private fired a round from a pistol in his right hand, causing him to lose a bit of speed. The shot was a miss by a longshot, and the second was hardly any better. The glider was almost stopped mid-air, making it all that much easier for Clyde to disembowel the rider as he passed by. Turning around, he neared the launching site. Indeed, there were only two launchers- surprising, but fortunate. Two more gliders were only still being loaded. Unfortunately, he saw his enemy was wearing a purple tunic. He was already waving his hands. Looking up, Clyde's premonition was confirmed. The sky was warping above him, preparing to fire off a lightning bolt. Racing against time, Clyde moved down into the foliage. The lightning bolt struck earth, incinerating a tree. Unfortunately, as the wyvern and its rider emerged unharmed, two more gliders launched. Another two were being prepared. Thinking quickly, Clyde stormed near the mage again. The mage prepared a lightning bolt, but Clyde fired off two rounds at him. The mage retorted with a tremendous fireball, destroying both rounds. Boy... King Drexar will sure miss this one. Dodging the fiery projectile, Clyde flew towards the mage with unmatched speed, decapitating the mage with his axe before the latter could respond again. Unfortunately, there was still the problem of two gliders already nearing Holstoff's outer walls to deal with. And looking out of the corner of his eye, Clyde could see a march of troops headed towards his privates that would catch them in a pincer attack. -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2339
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written Friday, October 28 2005 19:35
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IC: A dark figure slid across the sky, moving up the mountain. With a longsword strapped to his back, Tobias was observing the ground. With his Recurve bow (a very good bow for mounted archers) aimed at an R.D.U. soldier at the ground, he drew back the arrow, and let it fly. The arrow struck the soldier's torso, incapacitating him. But then another nearby R.D.U. soldier ran to the injured one and tried to carry him to safety. Tobias let another arrow fly, and it finished off the injured soldier. Suddenly, a shot was fired at Ailre, the wyvern Tobias was riding. Several more followed, as the R.D.U. soldiers made out Ailre's shape from the clouds. Many shots were fired at Ailre's eyes. Ailre swung his head around wildly, and Rey nearly lost control. Tobias tried to return fire, but he didn't get enough time for a good aim, due to Ailre being startled. Tobias made Ailre pull up, and he rose higher into the sky, preventing any shots from the ground or himself from being accurate. He saw a flyer in the distance, and he moved closer to see if it was a wyvern, or a glider... OOC: I hope I may join this RP. Here's a description of my character: Name: Tobias Rautoul'An Wyvern's name: Ailre (the following is information about Tobias) Age: 24 Height: 6 feet 2 inches. Rank: Captain Preferred weapon: Recurve bow Side: H.W.E. Advantages: Skilled archer, decent swordsman, wyvern rider, sharp eyes, quick reflexes. Disadvantages: Vulnerable to magic based attacks, unskilled in the use of a shield, a bit fragile, unable to cast spells. Other traits: Prefers not to speak, bloodthirsty, often uses feints and ambushes in his battle tactics. Description: He wears gray leather armor, and prefers to let his actions speak. He often stays quiet and follows orders, and rarely objects to killing, especially if he has to do a lot of it. [ Saturday, October 29, 2005 10:48: Message edited by: Zephyr Tempest ] -------------------- *Blue screen error* NONEXISTANT WINDOWS ERROR Windows detects no current errors, so Windows has decided to screw around with the files until one occurs. If you never rise against your oppressor, then you've already lost. -Zephyr Tempest, your personal entertainer Posts: 1779 | Registered: Monday, December 9 2002 08:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Friday, October 28 2005 20:02
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Your character's name is in violation of rule 2. "Unable to cast magic at all" ...this isn't much of a disadvantage at all. Just to let you know. Out of curiosity- what is this man's rank within the Imperial Air Force? Being in it at all is unlikely, since if he's as talented as you say, he'd probably be leading other units into battle or scouting for a nearby ground force. If he's a mercenary, why is he fighting for the H.W.E.? Is he being paid, or does he have a grudge with the R.D.U.? Having skill in archery, swordsmanship, "quick reflexex and tactics" and night vision (which isn't even humanly possible) is excessive. Independent ownership of wyverns is illegal. Which means that if you have it, it belongs to the H.W.E. and is being given to you on a loan. (It is also male, since non-officers are only given male wyverns to ride. The H.W.E. does not want other nations breeding its namesake. Scott's wyvern which Clyde is riding, for instance, is male. Clyde could requisition a female wyvern, however.) And for reference, wyverns have no special abilities other than flight. Their skin is no tougher than leather armor (and they also have soft underbellies). They cannot breathe fire, they have no poison, and their sight is black and white with no ultra- or night-vision. Their melee abilities aren't terrible, but steeds are taught not to use them since it often interferes with whatever the rider is doing and the steeds aren't intelligent enough to know when to stop. [ Friday, October 28, 2005 20:30: Message edited by: Ima ni TM wo Bakuretsu Shite ] -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2339
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written Friday, October 28 2005 21:08
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I'm afraid I do not know how my character's name violates rule 2. I am not familiar with the origins of almost all names. Changed it. Would you count "vulnerability to magic based attacks" as a weakness? In order for me to decide on a rank for my character, I would need a list of ranks for Wyvern riders. May the wyvern retain the name Ailre, or does it have to be completely generic? -------------------- *Blue screen error* NONEXISTANT WINDOWS ERROR Windows detects no current errors, so Windows has decided to screw around with the files until one occurs. If you never rise against your oppressor, then you've already lost. -Zephyr Tempest, your personal entertainer Posts: 1779 | Registered: Monday, December 9 2002 08:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Friday, October 28 2005 21:17
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As for your name- try a generic european name, or something VERY similar. Your wyvern can have a name, but it can't be any more or less competent than any other wyvern in the military. Military ranks are the same in the Empire as they are in present-day. Although it sounds to me as if your character is more of a mercenary. (As I said, your character would be leading other air troops if he was at a very high rank.) The way I see it, the most likely situation is that your character got lost from his retinue. This leaves open the options of either commanding it and its having been slain or being seperated from the commander. You can make the choice on this one. (Although I would recommend against taking Brigadier or higher as a rank.) -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Shaper
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written Friday, October 28 2005 21:46
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Or he could just make him a discharged soldier. -------------------- Mugglenet--The ULTIMATE Harry Potter Site. Polaris-- New location. Posts: 2396 | Registered: Saturday, January 29 2005 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 27
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written Friday, October 28 2005 22:08
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What time period in Europe is the culture based on? By culture do you simply mean names, religion, weapons, and clothing, or do you mean all aspects of European culture, including societal structure? Posts: 1233 | Registered: Wednesday, October 3 2001 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2339
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written Friday, October 28 2005 22:17
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My character's new name, Tobias, is the Greek (and thus European) form of Tobiah (which has Hebrew roots). Is that acceptable? I found a list of the ranks I believe that is the one being used (British army, perhaps? I did find Brigadier on it, just below Major-General. Please consider the fact that I am American, and not familiar with these Ranks), and I believe Captain or higher may be an appropriate rank. -------------------- *Blue screen error* NONEXISTANT WINDOWS ERROR Windows detects no current errors, so Windows has decided to screw around with the files until one occurs. If you never rise against your oppressor, then you've already lost. -Zephyr Tempest, your personal entertainer Posts: 1779 | Registered: Monday, December 9 2002 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6388
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written Friday, October 28 2005 23:11
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Melastes let out an angry hiss, and uncomfortably fiddled with his officer's ring - a coiled snake with bejewelled eyes - as was his habit when nervous. Melastes was a member of the old order, from back when it was the United Kingdom of Skanon rather than - well, what it is now. The polyglot colossus. So far as Petalion was concerned, he and his kind were the enemy here, not the mewling Wyvernists. The Wyvernists, they were weak, incompetent - they respected the bourgeois protocols of war, lived by them - and died as readily by them. That was their problem. They were evolving, of course. Some of the cleverer commanders were getting inspiredly nasty; that was happening too slow to save them. The captial would fall. Most of the royalty was already dead; all it would take was the strongmen keeping the doddering empire together and it would be another glorious province. He was where he was because he was doing his duty for his countrymen. Melastes was fighting because his daddy forced him to - it was his duty as the second-youngest son of an aristocrat - and now he was only in his position of power because he had not actively screwed up yet. He had been demoted twice; Petalion hoped each time Melastes realized how little use he was in an army of patriots. The man he grudgingly acknowledged as his commanding officer coughed. "So what are we going to do, Petalion? They've got us held down pretty efficiently, and the machines they've promised us aren't here yet." "They'll get here with the corps of engineers they assigned me to, and then we'll see how much we can rely on them. For now, General Melastes, we're going to have to relax. The towers say that we'll be at a huge wind disadvantage to host any glider action in our quadrant for another few days, our saltpeter supply is fair, and the Wyvernish forces are inferior enough that we have time and power sufficient to suss out the source of theirs while we're waiting." "So we shouldn't be bothering with orders of battle, then? What a relie--" "No, General Melastes. We're going to need to draw up a few skirmishes to keep the enemy on their toes. We are a wing in a general offensive. If the enemy builds up a counteroffensive, or withdraws into the city proper, without us finding out, we're going to have the blood of our countrymen on our hands." "Oh. All right. I'll get on that, then?" "...I wouldn't mind having a look, sir. Skirmish battle was my speciality at Black River, after all." "Oh, Petalion, you are a lifesaver. Thank you. If you need me, you know where my quarters are." "Certainly do." And by all rights, they should be a thousand miles away where you couldn't hurt the war effort from them, Petalion thought icily. His day will come. And so will mine. And so will mine. ... For your consideration: the story of Georgios Petalion a Lieutenant Colonel in the Royal Democratic Union being 29 years of age of average height & build and a tactical officer, with some skill regardless in hand-to-hand combat; a strategian of exceptional skill on the rise in an increasingly meritocratic RDU, and a specialist in unusual weapons and tactics with a practical focus in light-order battle; afflicted with poor eyesight and a middling constitution; able to ride a wyvern or horse, but neither particularly long or well, and to shoot a musket well enough to kill a man at spitting range, by deeds in the Holstoff Campaign known to be among the brilliantest and wickedest men ever born. Posts: 794 | Registered: Tuesday, October 11 2005 07:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Saturday, October 29 2005 08:58
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Slith: The latter. Marquises, Counts, Barons, etc. (Of course, for Holstoff, the whole thing is useless, but nevertheless.) A skirmish over there... The beast looks to be a wyvern. Let's see if Scott didn't forget to outfit his steed like he forgot his balls. Clyde fumbled around the leather pack of supplies on the wyvern's left side and found the flare. Clyde used the iron cap to generate friction and started the thing on fire. He gave it a good toss. The damned thing was so luminescent that anyone could see it in this weather. *bam!* His wyvern cried out in pain. Clyde hadn't even noticed that two more gliders were launched. The poor steed was pierced in the left leg, but that was an acceptable wound. Clyde didn't intend on landing anywhere, and he would only need the legs to take off again if he so chose. He fumbled around the supply case and found the short-range pistol. He would need more concentrated firepower for this fight. Turning his steed around with his bow and axe holstered, aiming his pistol at the enemy, he was able to fly irregularly enough that they wouldn't be able to aim at him. Concentrate... Wait for them to get close enough... Okay, now! Clyde shot the right private in the right shoulder, causing him to careen left into his partner, crushing the wings of both. Clyde descended towards the glider launchers and fired at the gears required to load each aparatus. Two hits and two misses. He used his last shot to nail a straggler in his right leg, incapacitating him. Making another turn, Clyde began heading back towards the city. Because of the mountains, the glider riders had the winds on their side. The outer wall defenders could pick them off if they got that close, but it was far more likely that they would start gunning down civilians living outside of the city limits. Clyde was approaching Liam's and Scott's patrol, and readied his bow in case he might be able to pick off some straggling attackers as he passed by. -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2339
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written Saturday, October 29 2005 10:59
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As Tobias approached the flyer, it performed several maneuvers and flew off. Tobias spotted a glider launch pad. He dived down a little to get a closer look. Even though the launchers were damaged, they had managed to launch one last glider. Tobias imediately shot an arrow at the glider's wing, and then another. This distracted the pilot, and made him accidently swerve the glider right at the ground. The pilot survived, but the glider was crushed. Several shots were fired at Tobias, and one bullet sliced through his left shoulder. "They never get tired of shooting at me!" Tobias said. He gripped his hurt shoulder for a moment. After pulling his hand away, he saw that he was bleeding. Tobias loaded 3 arrows in his bow, and fired them all near the R.D.U. launch pad defenders, and Tobias made his escape while they were scrambling to avoid the arrow volley. -------------------- *Blue screen error* NONEXISTANT WINDOWS ERROR Windows detects no current errors, so Windows has decided to screw around with the files until one occurs. If you never rise against your oppressor, then you've already lost. -Zephyr Tempest, your personal entertainer Posts: 1779 | Registered: Monday, December 9 2002 08:00 |
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Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!
Member # 919
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written Saturday, October 29 2005 21:07
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Another portion of the wall came crashing into the earthen pit below, crushing a stray engineer. Ranier sighed in frustration. Would they never learn? Engineers were not nearly as expendable as their armed protectors; they couldn't afford to take careless risks and stupid losses like that. A gunshot rang out overhead as a glider sped by providing cover fire for the waiting soldiers. Ranier watched angrily as his men charged over the rubble into the Holstoff base. What was their lead doing several men back? He'd been chosen to lead the charge for a reason - he was both brave and useless enough to guarantee the first melee death to be his own. As it was, Ranier saw, he'd already lost a few good men instead of his lead. He sighed again. His wounded would receive no mercy. They'd march like all the others. That'd teach them. Twenty years in the field, he had, and so many before. If they'd only listen to him... The battle was over almost before it had begun. It had already been joined on the other side of the fortress, and had needed only a slight push before it surrendered. The second charge proved sufficient, and before long, a line of bedraggled, seething Imperial soldiers stod before him, their newly constructed base lying half in ruins behind. A messenger found Ranier on his hill. "Victorious, sir." "I can see that. Anyone important?" The messenger held out his palms. "The leader of the garrison is over there. Many of his closest subordinates are dead." "Fine. Bring him here." The messenger nodded sharply and ran off. Before long the officer stood before him, his armor stripped, his weaponry removed, but his shoulders back and his head held high. He was proud, this one. "Who is he?" "I am-" "Silence! Who is he?" "He was chosen from his peers for his leadership and his expendability," the messenger replied. "He's lowly, but he's respected. He built this fort, and it's not his first." The commander stepped forward, unbelieving. "How do you know-" Ranier rose from his seat, hand on his hilt, and the Wyvernian commander fell silent along with all bystanders. Ranier raised a hand, fixed his eyes on a nearby soldier, and dropped it with a sweeping motion. The soldier nodded and approached the commander, drawing his sword. A Wyvernian soldier broke from his line and rushed desperately toward his leader. Two gunshots rang out and the man fell on his face, an unearthly groan marking his death. The executioner brought his sword up and then down, burying it in the Wyvernian commander's neck. The man gasped, his eyes bulging. The soldier yanked the sword from his neck in frustration and swung again, this time missing completely. Ranier sighed and came down from his platform, muttering under his breath. He grabbed the sword from the soldier's hands and brought it up. "This is how it's done, see?" He drove the sword through the twitching body, severing the head completely. A soft cry rose from the Wyvernian ranks as their leader's head struck the dirt. Ranier nodded in their direction. "Now why don't you all go practice on them. You need it more than we need them. We can't feed them, anyway." With a wave of his hand he condemned the garrison to death. "Oh, and Benton, get that head in a bag. His superiors at Johnstown haven't heard from him in a while, and I'm sure they'd love to see him in person." He turned as the soldier bowed and began striding toward the fortress to see if it was salvagable. If it was, it'd have to be destroyed. -------------------- And though the musicians would die, the music would live on in the imaginations of all who heard it. -The Last Pendragon Polaris = joy. In case of emergency, break glass. Posts: 3351 | Registered: Saturday, April 6 2002 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6388
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written Saturday, October 29 2005 23:47
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Melastes chuckled nervously and rubbed on his ring. "They... they told us they'd have more engineers, didn't they? There's only two dozen of you." "Machines got bogged down." The engineer's florid accent was a clear sign of the benefits of the new blood the Union was bringing in. "We went on ahead. Remainder of the company's back there with them." "So, Petalion. I guess that, uh, makes you in charge here?" "Yes." Georgios tried not to sound too eager. "Yes it does. You're the leader of the corps, right?" "This detachment, sir." Elliot Babarech: lieutenant, RDU engineers' corps. An unnecessarily burly and vital man, given his status. Georgios almost would have trusted a pudgy egghead more: almost, because from their initial debriefing, he got the impression Babarech shared his opinion on nonsense. "Good. Then order your men - such as they are - to assist any elements of the army seeking out saltpeter." General Melastes gave a sudden croak, like a frog surprised at his own fart. "General Melastes, sir?" "Yes, about that. I hadn't drawn up any orders to seek out saltpeter. Don't want the men getting too far out of dress orders, you know?" Petalion gave his superior officer a hard look: this was one of the few moments protocol found incumbent he dress down the impotent old fool, and he was going to take joy in it. "General Melastes, as important as I am certain you find dressing up our troops in lace and string like little goddamn toy soldiers, it is far more important they have AMMUNITION. Your priorities are out of order with those of the modern army. Sir." "Ah, the lot of the old romantic, eh? We're a dying breed." Melastes smiled at Petalion, who felt genuinely ill. "I... I guess I'm going to have to send out the orders, then?" Petalion sighed. "Don't bother. The grunts are only going to slow down the engineers at this point. You know what? You've had a lot to do lately. Why don't you take a load off? I'll make sure everything gets run properly for you." "Oh, would you? Bless you, Georgios. I don't know what I'd do without you." He ran to his tent like a schoolchild shirking his work. "Right. Investigate the water table. There's no way they're getting all of the saltpeter without a nearby set of caverns; the only question is where, and where the deposits are. Right now that's the only advantage they have over us." Babarech blinked. "We're to search for saltpeter here, sir? It had not occurred to command that there is a source in the area. In fact, in our initial debriefing, we were informed the general opinion in the corps was that the Wyvernish forces were working on stockpiles from the Sazamec lode, recently captured, or perhaps converted piss." Petalion shook his head. "I oversaw the post-Sazamec campaign, and their supply train was usually as small as they could get away with. Any saltpeter they looted from that miserable desert has already been used. They're working on fresh supply." "Sir, have you communicated this to headquarters?" "I assumed headquarters knew. I'll write a memorandum and have it sent up." ... Quadrant II was relatively inactive; having reached a strategic impasse long before the remainder of the army could draw into similar range, much of the time before Petalion assumed direct command was spent idling or searching for necessary resources. However, the arrival of new projects from home would soon shake up the tactical situation across the board. [ Saturday, October 29, 2005 23:48: Message edited by: Belisarius ] Posts: 794 | Registered: Tuesday, October 11 2005 07:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Sunday, October 30 2005 09:07
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"Th... They're searching the nearby area? But why?" "Well, sir, they saw through the distraction tactic we used at Sazamec." "...Damnation. How long until they find us?" "Not long, sir. Their commander, unlike most of them from their ranks- nevermind ours- is actually semi-competent." "Then we have one choice only." "Sir?" "Use the mountaintop. We can use height to our advantage and perforate their encampment." "But that will reveal our posi-- oh, right." "Yes. You see, we will be revealed to the enemy regardless. Either they pierce the ground and find our soft underbelly, or we use the advantage of surprise while we still have it." ---- "Wabines! Mashi-mashi!" The soldier didn't need to speak the native tongue of Drexar; his colloquial, regional mish-mash combined with his tone let everyone knew what was happening soon enough to instill fear but no sooner than they might already be fired upon. A rumbling was heard from the mountain as well-concealed secret passages were forced open after countless years of dormancy. Wyverns flew out, soldiers emptied, and prototype longbarrels were loaded into turret slots. Then, the ominous cloud of gunpowder emerged from the mountain, signifying the first round of firing. ---- "Lieutennant Colonel Petalion! We're under--" "Thank you for telling me the obvious, Babarech." "Sir." "Now you tell me this: How have there been Imperial troops so close to our base that we are suffering casualties from here?" "I... I do not know, Sir. The fire appears to be coming from the mountain, sir, but--" "From the mountain! Muskets don't have that kind of range." "Well, sir, it doesn't seem to be coming from the wyverns." "..." "Sir?" "If it's coming from the mountains, it's inevitable that they have an outpost- perhaps even a fortress- inside of the mountain itself. Our scouts aren't that inept... I hope." "Then your command, Sir?" Georgios smiled. He knew exactly what could be done in such an instance. "Why, that's simple. I'll round up the best of our troops and order a retreat into the trees where they won't be able to fire on us as easily, wyverns or not. Tell General Melastes to send his toy soldiers up the side of the mountain to engage the enemy." "..." Babarech took a while to absorb the gravity of the command. Georgios was feeding his commanding officer to the slaughterhouse to save his own hide. Was it the right thing to do? "I'll get right on it, Sir." ...Probably. ======== Where the hell is that other wyvern rider going? Nevermind that, the other two gliders are almost above the city. Clyde whipped the reins of Scott's wyvern, causing it to fly comparably more quickly. He wasn't even remotely close to firing range, but he still had one shot from his pistol left, and... *Bang!* The weather god was not on his side. The moment he fired the pistol was the very same moment a bolt of lightning struck in the nearby distance, making the sound of his firearm redundant. The two gliders rode on, and Clyde's plan to frighten them off course went unnoticed. This is bad. If I don't catch up with them soon, the troops will become even more demoralized. Oh, no-- the privates! The privates, from what he could saw, were either littered on the ground or at the fringes of the enemy's line of fire. He could only hope that those still alive would be able to retreat successfully. -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 5450
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written Sunday, October 30 2005 22:55
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They were taking fire. Once again, the possiblity of death. Liam liked killing, not being killed. Nevertheless he plunged into the battle, stabbing and shooting where he could. The warm gushing of blood on his hands as he sliced people would encourage him to kill more. He thought that the group of soldiers was doomed, but he knew he would not die. He is a fast runner, and anyone who came too close would be stabbed. Slicing and dicing, he ripped through the enemy. OOC: Sorry, I'll extend this tomorrow. I'm tired. -------------------- Mugglenet--The ULTIMATE Harry Potter Site. Polaris-- New location. Posts: 2396 | Registered: Saturday, January 29 2005 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6388
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written Monday, October 31 2005 15:25
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As the day began to darken under the first tendrils of dusk, Petalion's heart was warmed by the probability that Melastes was already dead. His plan was working splendidly: the inept conscripts Melastes had ruined with endless, needless dress drills were dying off. Any survivors would wise up and join his force in the forest. Something in Petalion rebelled at the idea of being this far from control. Almost all of the forces at work were beyond his grasp: now he was waiting for the engineering corps to arrive, for the scattered few survivors to quit the former encampment, for the wyverns to make a dumb move and open themselves up for attack. "You're a legend at Black River, sir." The air was silent. "They say you're the best they've ever seen. That you came up with stuff to do with muskets they never dreamed of. That your tenure there advanced the state of Union tactics by a generation. That your time at the war college is why we are where we are today." "They never said it to me." Petalion had heard idle compliments before, and he never bought them. "I do my job. I expect nothing more than others do the same." Elliot grinned. "I know. I respect that, sir. I've been assigned to some gesticulating idiots. We all have, I think. Must have been hell working for Melastes." Petalion grinned. "Between you and me - yes. When the other side kills him, they'll be doing us a favor. He's a fat old fool who undermined the war effort. Who made what you see now possible. I can turn it around, but it'll take me a while." The olive-skinned man coughed. "Well, sir, I hope you don't think I was blowing smoke here. What I was trying to tell you was - they believe in you. They think you're the best thing that ever happened to us. That's why you're a snake colonel at the age you are." Petalion glanced askew at Babarech. "You've got my rank wrong." Babarech smiled. "It was supposed to be one of two surprises when the majority of the corps got here. You want to know the other?" "Go ahead." I'm not the type for surprises, Petalion meant to say. "You've got the entire engineering corps on the way. All of the new whiz-bangs, our best sappers and spies, Brigade Zero, everything. They figure by the time you're done, the other side's capital will be ashes and nightmares and we'll be princes of the earth." Petalion shrugged. "I'll do what I must." He grinned widely. "And I'll enjoy the hell out of it, too." The two men watched the carnage in the valley below. It had been a long day. Posts: 794 | Registered: Tuesday, October 11 2005 07:00 |
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Member # 4
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written Monday, October 31 2005 16:52
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"What the... Is the enemy trying to charge up a fortified and heavily armed mountain?" "And some of those men, they aren't even using pistols! Is a flag even considered a weapon?" "I feel sorry for them." "Really?" "Yes. ... No." Rifle and musket rounds alike gunned down the men marching in a single file line. Some of the soldiers attempted to run, but the wyverns were able to get most of those who did. General Melastes led the charge at first, but he only realized the futility of climing a mountain with a horse- nevermind a fully decorational one, not bred for war- when half of his troop was already ahead of him. "Sir, should we take their general captive?" "I... I believe so, yes." "Really, sir? I was just asking, not really--" "I was being sarcastic. Kill him." "Ah... Right away, sir." Melastes looked up at the mountain as it emitted a foul cloud of black smoke and countless bullets at his ranks. Then, he looked at the heavens as blood began flowing from a gaping bullet wound on his right foot. He fell faint from the shock. Two hours later. "Won sain jo?" "Sir, this one appears to speak in a foreign tongue." "Right, I can see this." "Won konj beh?" "Knock this one out cold and fetch me an interpreter before he awakes." "Sir." Melastes was soundly crushed by a musket barrel delivered to his temple. "Why did you keep him alive, sir?" "A bargaining chip. Anyway, he's clearly not the one leading the troops." "So?" "Well, he might be a powerful aristocrat that his nation forgot to purge- Perhaps his family aided the glorious revolution their propagandists rave about." "You think they'd actually give us a favor for him, Sir?" "Well, at the bare minimum, he has enough fat that feeding him won't be an issue. One of our wyverns picked him up without orders; If nothing else, we have little to lose by harboring him. Hell, we might even be able to crack some military secrets from him." "I see, Sir. And what of those soldiers who retreated?" "Well, I guess we'll just have to scout on them." "They might shoot our wyverns, Sir." "So? We aren't the last fully-functioning fortress of the Empire capable of tactics without reason." "Your idea, Sir?" "Well, there are some sympathetic deserters drifting around Falwick, right? Why not put them to work?" "Sir... Brilliant idea, Sir." "I know. Get your men on it immediately. Only pick the ones who would pass off as R.D.U. soldiers." ---- Meanwhile, the two gliders made it to the outer districts of the city. Clyde saw four civilians already killed, but none of them were children... yet. At least morale won't take an immediate nosedive right this instance. Taking his bow and arrow, the major struck down one of the gliders that had since given up evasive flight. The other glider's rider quickly realized the situation when he saw his partner crash into a cobblestone street, but could barely turn around before Clyde had another shot at a mostly immobile target. Ghh, I missed. Well, not exactly, but... The second glider's wing was pierced, making its flying somewhat uneven, but the glider rider had his pistol aimed at Clyde. Come on, load the weapon and fire... The soldier fired, and Clyde let his arrow fly out of shock when his wyvern was struck in the neck. Goddamn, that lucky punk... Did I get him? Indeed, the second glider finally went down in the street, where sword-wielding prefects who were previously unable to respond and hiding were able to cut the invader down. Clyde's wyvern landed with a thud. Based on the crunch, Clyde was able to infer that the beast's ribcage was more than likely crushed. Even if it wasn't, the injury it had sustained in its leg meant that it wasn't going to walk off anywhere, much less lift off. "Men! Scouts report that the capital is being swarmed in another three-pronged attack. The central prong is being spearheaded by a multiple glider attack, just like the ones you just saw. Major Clyde's unit has been--" "Pardon me, Sir!" "Wh... You? Major? Pardon me!" Clyde approached the patrol of roughly one thousand men assembling in the town square. This skirmish is just a foreshadow of what the Drexar swines had plannend? Were they tossing me to the winds, or is our scouting really this horrible? And man, if this is a serious offensive, this quasi-legion will be crushed if they don't use their numbers wisely. Clyde was ready to take command of the situation, but damned if it wasn't a dismal one. -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
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Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!
Member # 919
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written Monday, October 31 2005 19:03
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"Headquarters congratulates you on your latest-" "I don't care. Cut to the chase." The lieutenant looked away and sighed. "You're losing your engineers, sir." Ranier stared, unmoving. The lieutenant cringed. "I realize you-" "All of them?" The lieutenant paused, then nodded. Ranier rose, throwing a flickering shadow against the back wall of his tent. The other man shrunk back. "Right. Whose orders?" The lieutenants eyebrows rose. "General Melastes, but-" Ranier spat. "Yes, yes, I know who's in charge." He stopped pacing. "Goddamnit. Well... that's that, then. Have they been informed?" "They have." Ranier shook his head. "Fine. Right. Fine, then." He fell silent. The lieutenant stood by, uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot. He cleared his throat. Ranier turned on him. "Well?" "You are needed closer to Holstoff." Ranier's fist landed on a leather cover. The table shook beneath it and his brandy spilled, unnoticed. "I am not needed near Holstoff, I am needed out here. There is nothing for me to do-" "Sir-" "-there, my talents would be wasted, they know that. I have years of-" "Sir-" "-experience out here. All I need is a small force and a few engineers and I could-" "Sir!" Ranier paused. "What," he spat. "Sir, I must respectfully remind you that orders are-" "Yes, I know that." He resumed pacing. "Yes, yes, alright. Tell the men. We march tomorrow?" The lieutenant nodded. "Very well. Dismissed." The lieutenant nodded again and fled the tent. Ranier dropped into his chair, head in his hands, and sighed. Holstoff... bah. They knew who he was. They'd learn soon enough, otherwise. -------------------- And though the musicians would die, the music would live on in the imaginations of all who heard it. -The Last Pendragon Polaris = joy. In case of emergency, break glass. Posts: 3351 | Registered: Saturday, April 6 2002 08:00 |
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BANNED
Member # 4
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written Wednesday, November 2 2005 16:42
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Bump. -------------------- 私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00 |
