Upcoming Events

Collapse

There are no results that meet this criteria.

Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Tarnished Blade

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Tarnished Blade

    "Use this sword. It won't keep you safe, for that is not in the nature of a blade. It can only ever do one thing, and one thing only. Please, forgive me."

    - Valerius to his son, Praesus on the eve of the Second Bloodmaim War
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Tears stung my eyes. I looked around the battlefield, and I only saw death. My breath came out in measured gasps, and the air stung my throat raw as I looked upon the carnage. A field of red shields and helms, faced against monsters that looked as though they crawled their way from my nightmares.

    "Loose Sagittarii! Loose!"

    Massive, bloody beasts with teeth cracked and jagged. Their skins, painted with the blood of my Legion. Their weapons, stained with the most intimate parts of the people that I knew and had served with. The horrible, bone shattering screech as they charged our lines with their axes ready to rend flesh and bone. And their eyes, burning with hatred beyond anything I could comprehend.

    "Come on! Forward to their flank, I need Scholii to focus their fire on our column sides!"

    I watched. And as I watched, time slowed for the briefest of moments and I was only left with the fear. That fear you get when you know you are hopelessly, inevitably going to die in the next few moments. The fear is almost comforting, the way it coils around your heart and squeezes the life from it. You give in, helplessly, because you know that fighting against it would be like fighting against an approaching tidal wave or the crushing weight of the water as you tried in vain to reach the surface.

    "Clinicus! I need a gods damned clinicus!"

    It was there, and it made me feel as though I were a child again and I was watching my brother fall from the tree in our orchard. The autumn light had been glimmering through the branches, and the air had been cool on my face, with only the slowly falling shadow of my brother moving. And then there was the sickening thud as he hit the ground that made me almost gag in sympathy pain. So long ago.

    "Second Legion, retreat! Fall back, I repeat, fall back!"

    Time sped back up, and the young Legionnaire blinked as the orc axe came at him. The beast snarled, its hooked talons grasping the massive weapon as it charged forward. The earth rattled as the Tirones threw his shield up, slowing the axe just enough as it tore through the metal guard.

    The young Tirones rolled to the side and slashed down with his blade, slicing through the orc's tendon. Ink-black blood gushed from the wound as the orc roared more in anger than actual pain. It's spiked gauntlet backhanded the soldier with unnatural strength, tearing his face open.

    (Ohmygods it fucking BURNS)

    Screaming in terror and pain, the soldier thrust his blade upwards into the orcs underbelly, slicing through the abdomen. For a brief moment, he saw the intestines slither out of the orc's stomach and a look of disbelief.

    (Do orcs even have facial expressions? Their monsters. They're all monsters).

    Gods, then what am I?
    Characters:
    Peridan Twilight, one-eyed dog of the Legion, deceased.
    Daniel Nobody, adventurer and part time problem solver.

    [DM] Poltergeist :
    If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge an intermediate deity's unbridled fury.

  • #2
    "The rage is all we have against these things. Use it."

    - Salararius Juvien

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------

    I stared in horror as the orc coughed once, twice, as though it were trying to get something out of its throat. A wad of blood shot out from its nostrils and mouth, spraying the ground as its insides littered the field with their slimy embrace.

    The smell. Oh, gods, the smell. It was rank, and it burned my nostrils with the stench of decaying flesh. Its, or something else, I don't even fucking know. A gauntleted hand reached over and yanked me up, as the sounds of the battle faded from my hearing. I could only stare in numb horror at the sight of the soldier who was shouting at me and pointing. In slow motion, I turned my head and saw the line of Gruumush Berserkers advancing, their rage palpable against my skin as my hair practically stood on end. The yelling of my fellow soldier finally broke through my mute horror.

    "Come the fuck on! We have to regroup!"

    I nodded blankly, and we stumbled over to the line of Legionnaires with their blades out, and the look of certain death on their faces. It wasn't grim determination, like they tell you in stories. It was calm, fatal, resignation.

    We watched the orcish horde advance. We felt the earth tremble. We heard the harsh breath of the people next to us. We shifted our weapons in our hands. We licked our lips. We prayed. We thought of others.

    And I felt it bubble up inside, I felt it shake through my legs, my stomach, my arms and down to my blade. That deep, full-bellied roar that envelopes our minds and makes our bones rattle with hate. All of my being resisted what it was being told, that we were to die. I rebelled. I opened my mouth, and as one we roared our defiance and hatred back into that black night.

    And then my world erupted into blood.
    Last edited by Peridan; 02-24-2014, 12:03 AM.
    Characters:
    Peridan Twilight, one-eyed dog of the Legion, deceased.
    Daniel Nobody, adventurer and part time problem solver.

    [DM] Poltergeist :
    If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge an intermediate deity's unbridled fury.

    Comment


    • #3
      "The brave Legionnaire rode off into the sunset, the elven princess riding next to him on her steed of white starlight. And they lived happily ever after."

      - Elenwe, elven immigrant, to her son Caelius and daughter Míriel

      -------------------------------------------------------------------------

      I embraced the numbness as it sought to cleanse my mind from the field before me.

      We had 'won' the battle, whatever that meant. I suppose it just meant that we had lost fewer forces than the Bloodmaim, but I doubted that. They had vanished back into the Mossdale like an army of ghosts, drifting into the shadows of the trees that towered over the battlefield.

      Won the battle. What inanity. Corpses littered the field in grotesque shapes and sizes. Men, orcs, elves, dwarves. The sky was dark, and Selune hid her face.

      There were no more stars.

      I stared out at the crop of death we had sown, and numb horror sank like a stone in the pit of my stomach. The traces of blood still covered my face, some mine, most not. It felt sticky, and made my face difficult to move without feeling the skin stretch and tighten. I raised a hand to it, staring blankly into nothingness, content to remain there as long as I was able.

      "...Help." A voice called weakly from the ground. I blinked twice, and dropped my gaze to the ground. A barely recognizable face of a Legionnaire stared up at me, eyes unblinking and lips barely moving. The figure's lips moved slowly, mouthing for any kind of help. Her eyes met mine, and I felt the fog lift from my mind and body. Almost at once, I was dragging her out from under the brutish corpse of a Bloodmaim berserker.

      "Help!" I called hoarsely, "I need a clinicus! Now, please!" Grunting, I hefted her over my shoulder and staggered down the path towards the medical tents, each step heavier than the last. I looked at the wounded woman, and her eyes continued to stare up at me, pleading, begging.

      The road stretched ahead of me with the white tents in the distance, towers of hope. I could do it. I could get there. I could save one. I hefted her weight and the veins stood out on my neck. Adrenaline burned its way through my head and arms, giving me the strength I needed. By Helm, Tempus, and all the good gods, I could save one.

      An injured patrolman met me near the tents, an eyepatch over the likely mangled socket. Hard cheekbones framed his angular face, and even more so when he grimaced at me and my burden.

      "Tirones, the dead will be gathered later, after our injured are taken care of." He said as he examined the woman over my shoulder. My jaw clenched, and I jerked my head to the side in annoyance. "What're you, blind? This woman needs medical attention, dammit!"

      The soldier lifted her chin, her eyes staring straight at him. Blank. Empty.

      His remaining eye moved to me, his anger fading into resignation. "Son, she's been dead for hours. No one could survive these wounds." I looked at her in horror, and saw that he was right. There was no way she could have survived. No way to save her. She's just a sack of rotting meat. That's all.

      He rested a hand on my other shoulder in comfort. "Go put her down. Get some sleep. We all need it." He turned, and walked back towards the gleaming tents, filled with clinicus'.

      I felt the body slip from my arms, and I watched her fall. I felt her hit the ground. I saw her glassy gaze, her accusing eyes. I could hear her, denouncing me.

      "Why didn't you save me?"
      Characters:
      Peridan Twilight, one-eyed dog of the Legion, deceased.
      Daniel Nobody, adventurer and part time problem solver.

      [DM] Poltergeist :
      If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge an intermediate deity's unbridled fury.

      Comment

      Working...
      X