Forum Thread
In A Blaze of Glory (RP)
Forum-Index → Roleplay → In A Blaze of Glory (RP)"I can't remember the last time I saw a night sky not clouded with smoke and fire".
That was the last thing I heard my friend, Setanta, say before he died in his sleep. Like most, he didn't have control of how he died. But unlike most, he died peacefully. Not in excruciating pain. Not pleading for his life. He just went to sleep that night and never woke up. To this day, I dont know what to think of his death. Should I curse the world for taking the person who had been like a father to me for many years, or do I get on my knees and thank it for letting him go in a way many dream they could go. One thing is for sure though, thats not how I will leave this world. I will leave it like hundreds of thousands do every day, on the battlefield-
*A sound of a horn filled the air and Maya jumped in fear and looked back towards her door. She then let out a sigh of relief as she soom realized it was just the horn for the soldiers to wake up. She turned backwards towards her diary and dabbed the quill into the ink with her left hand continued writing what would be her last entry.*
Fighting to live just a little bit longer then you would otherwise
*Maya put the quill down and blew at the page to dry the ink before closing it and putting it in a small metal box and locking the book in. She got out of her chair with the box and slowly lifed a floorboard up to hide the book. Once it was in, she lowered the floorboard and stood up. Her shift to pateol was going to start any minute*
𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 ℜ𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯
"Real heroes never fear the pain or death;
Every soldier fights until their final breath;
Dedicating all their lives to just one cause;
Serve the kingdom and abide the rules and laws"
★・・・・・★
Blaise was awake long before the ringing of the bells, his figure prominent on the high tower albeit the darkness of the early morning. He watched as the previously put-out lamps slowly flickered back to life, one by one, as each sleeping soldier woke up from their slumber. Today was another day. Another day of training, another day to live.
Wishfully, he thought, maybe today would offer a minimal level of peace. Though, a battle, later on, was probably inevitable.
Waiting for the warmth of the morning sun to bathe the camp in light, he decided to leave his post on the tower and continued down to the common grounds, greeting a few people on his way down, trying to brighten up the mood as the thought of their grim fate lingered amongst the minds of the soldiers.
Truthfully, today would only mean another war to fight, possibly another million lives lost battling those cursed invaders and guarding what little of their home they had left.
It was a dark thought, but it was the reality.
Although it was still the crack of dawn, the area was already busy, with the scouts preparing for another round of patrols while the previous batch returned after a night of scouring the perimeters. Blaise scanned the newcomers, appearing from the gates on their respective horses and his eyes latched onto a very familiar face. He approached the person as they dismounted their horse, fixed his bow slung on the shoulder and straightened the quiver of arrows on his waist. The boy turned and looked at the larger man, his face looking unamused and not the least excited to see Blaise, though the slight ease of his tensed muscles may have suggested otherwise.
"Hey, how was patrol, Lil' lion?" Blaise asked, calling the boy by his nickname, earning an annoyed scowl in return. He let out a small, bright chuckle at Lionel's response as he slung one arm over the smaller boy's shoulder.
𝔏𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔩『???』
"The real heroes stand until the end;
But the biggest fight is inside;
Feelings clashing while you pretend;
That the bloodstains one day will dry"
.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.
He was secretly relieved to see Blaise, his mind slightly relaxed as the man's shining blonde hair greeted him after a long night of guarding the borders. Though it soon vanished at the mention of his stupid nickname given by the man since he was a child. He scoffed as he shook Blaise's arms off his shoulder.
"I told you not to call me that in public," he said as he walked forward, about to file his patrol report, which included a few sightings of the enemies within close camp proximity. While he had expected it, he was slightly irritated as Blaise tailed behind him.
"Do you hate it that much? It sounds cool," he remarked. Lionel rolled his eyes.
"It sounds childish," the boy fought back, avoiding the stares of the other soldiers, recruits, or survivors. Blaise let out a sigh.
"You're no fun, Lionel," he said but didn't push the boy's patience any further. "Was patrol okay? Anything bad observed?" Blaise asked as they neared the general's quarters. Lionel hesitated.
"A small army was spotted nearby, heading towards us. Though they probably noticed us and took a detour. The next patrol squad is advised to look out for their activities again," he elaborated, writing the exact same words on the forms laid out on the counter before putting it in the assigned folder for inspection later on. "Anyway, I have to do camp duty, aren't you leading the morning patrol?" Lionel questioned Blaise, the man nodded.
"Yeah, I am, just waiting for them to gather. The sun will be up soon, I best leave now," he said as he gripped onto his Halberd. "See you later," he added, his goodbye wave not returned by the boy. Lionel watched as Blaise neared the small group and sorted out their horses and squad arrangements. He headed off for the kitchen area, where the prey caught by the hunters would be prepared to feed the masses later on. The amount they had, however, wouldn't be nearly enough to feed all the hungry mouths. The number of prey they could hunt down was dwindling with the day due to the limited lands they had. As he counted their remaining stock, he let out a silent grimace.
How much longer can they go on like this?
The young archer gasped and woke up, sweating and shaking. It was just a dream, as real and as emotionally painful as the last. She didn't want to tell herself it was a nightmare. Only children spooked by old ghost stories get nightmares. She stood up a little too quickly and sat back down reluctantly. Eventually, she got dressed and took everything she needed, including her dad's shabby journal which had fallen on the floor. Patrol. Let's do this. she thought as she quickly headed out.
With scarves of red tied 'round their throats
To keep their little heads from falling in the flames
And I turned 'round and there you go...
Oh what a joy to be alive... Is what Cleivar would say if he didn't live in hell. Well... he wouldn't call it hell, he found hell to be magnificent with it's everlasting flames, punishing filthy sinners for their crimes. He'd love to be there one day, standing above all the rest, watching as each and every one of those below him suffered, fearing the flames instead of embracing it. His way of thinking was crude and outright insane, yes, but he has the pleasure of having what not many have, no fear of death. He wouldn't be on the battlefield if he didn't have that strength, then again, half the people here wouldn't, but he believed he was different. He wasn't like these disappointments, these mindless sacks of meat that fought each other to no end. Well... Wasn't he the exact same? He was human just like the rest of them, fighting his own kind for no reason other than because he could. He didn't really care about his home, he only saw it as the perfect landscape to set ablaze, watching as those who fear the beauty of it get eaten by the dancing colors.
Ehh... it was too early to be fantasizing over something he would never achieve, that is, unless they won the war. Right now, the moment was all that mattered, and the moment Cleivar lived in was watching one of his fellow soldiers write in a dairy. What a pathetic thing to cling onto... A leather-bound pile of papers that held no meaning? It was just a waste of time... He scoffed as he watched everyone else in his cabin get ready, already having done so due to how early he had awoken. After the poor attempt to hide the wretched thing, Cleivar jumped down from his bunk, walking towards Maya with his hands in his pockets and the stupid grin on his face, like the total jerk he was. "Hey hey! Watcha got there lady? Some silly little journal?" He chuckled, but didn't step any closer to her than he needed to have eye contact. He knew who he was dealing with, and he knew it was stupid to pick on her, but he needed something to do. Sure, he could restock on his bombs, but that was boring and they were about to fight anyways.
Speaking of... His mind always wondered when this could all end, the fighting, the contant sound of war. As much as he liked not being ridiculed for his talents, he wanted his old life back, if you could even call it that. Cleivar wasn't constantly being forced to make the same old, powerful-but-effective 'weapons' he's had to make for a while now, he was able to go at his own pace and be creative. Sure, it did warrent an arrest nearly every time he did so, but he always picked the lock and went about his day. He couldn't do the same here, there was hardly any useful scrap metal he could use to pass his time, there was no lock to pick, metaphor or not, and the enjoyment wasn't there. Guess he was stuck trying to maintain his reputation, which turned out to be much different than he thought. He found that the only way to do so in these times was to be a jerk, completely opposite of what he used to be. Apparently, that's how people saw him, and therefore that's the only way they would see him. It was a pain, really, but in his mind he couldn't just do a complete 180 and be the same as he was, this wasn't the right setting for it. He couldn't bear to be normal like the rest of the cowards he fought with, that was against his ideology. Oh the dilemma... Oh what a joy to be alive...
Mounting his dear Dusken, as he used to, he rode home, ecstatic in being able to see his family once more. As he reached closer and closer to his mansion, however, were the skies getting darker?
Are those gray things in the sky rain clouds? Why was there red mixed in..? Suddenly, his heart sank. Excitement gave way to abyssal fear. Wait... what was that chasing him? As hard as Dusken tried, they could not escape.
The ocean blue flag of Reinbranze viscounty wrapped around him. Resistance proved futile. He could hardly breath.
"Yes... the flag consumes one more"
Gasping for breath, Samton woke up at the sound of the horn. Right, that was just a dream. None of those matter anymore. Neither the viscounty, nor dear Dusken. Matters of the past are best left in the past, after all.
He woke up to her lowering the floorboard. 'Keeping secrets, seems like somebody still has hope. Well, that's for the best, I suppose?' He wished let her finish up with it before getting up, only to then see the other one disrupt.
Getting up, he stood facing the two. "Morning Maya, Cleivar." Short and quick, he gave them a greeting before proceeding outside.
Being nobility, having to live as he does would have certainly resulted in rebellions a few years ago. Who would even care now, though? The dreadfulness of war outside was enough for him to have left behind any sliver of nobility that his peers held high in their hearts.
Would that be why he outlived them all? A cruel thought, were it not at least partly true.
Our shift isnt over! *Maya let put a sigh of relief as she saw him looking down towards her, before shouting back at them so they could hear them* Open the gate, I'm heading to my shift! *The guard groaned before disappearing back behind the wall. As Maya climbed back down, she heard the wood gates begin to creak as they opened for Maya and others to pass through. Once down, Maya spent a brief moment scanning the area for Eliza before making her way through the gate.*
With all that out of the way, he sighed and slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out, putting on a convincing enough grin and decided to follow Samton, since he himself didn't really have a set post to attend. He begun to walk faster until he was nearly jogging to keep up to him. "Hey, good morning! Sleep well?"
𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 ℜ𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯
"Real heroes never fear the pain or death;
Every soldier fights until their final breath;
Dedicating all their lives to just one cause;
Serve the kingdom and abide the rules and laws"
★・・・・・★
Blaise's mind was somewhat occupied with thoughts while he waited for his group to gather, but the sounds of the opening gates brought the man back to reality, breaking him from his trance. There were still quite a few who were missing though, and with a risk detected from the previous patrol, he wasn't willing to leave with such small numbers. He decided to wait a little longer, staring into the land beyond the gates.
While nature was preserved in some areas, the land that used to be a lush forest was now nothing like it was in the past. The charred remains of the trees, destroyed by the fire and cannons, were crumbling into dust, their ashes and splinters littering the barren, uneven ground. As the man sat there, staring at the depressing scenery left behind by the war, he pictured the moments back in the day before their peace was shattered. Horse riding in the woods, sword practices amongst the towering trees, the laughter, the joy.
Their smiles, shone as bright as the rising sun.
"Oi," a voice interrupted. Blaise let out a small jump in surprise as he looked down at the person who spoke from his horse. There stood the boy, hood pulled up to conceal his face, with a small bag in his hands. "Rations are cut again due to food shortages. You'd better bring these along with you in case those greedy idiots decide to eat all the food for themselves before you return," Lionel said, tossing over a bag filled with some meat, bread and water in waterskins. Blaise nodded.
"Thanks, have you seen where the others are by any chance?" he asked, starting to grow slightly impatient. Lionel shrugged.
"I don't even know anyone else who's supposed to be on the morning shift. Why should I care?" he replied, met with a frowned look from Blaise like a father silently scolding his child. The boy paid no heed to the man's reaction. Without a goodbye, Blaise watched as Lionel walked away, heading towards his cabin to probably change out of his clothes before he started cleaning duty, observing the looks on the other people's faces at the quiet and cold boy. Blaise sighed.
How was he going to get him to be happier for once?
𝔏𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔩『???』
"The real heroes stand until the end;
But the biggest fight is inside;
Feelings clashing while you pretend;
That the bloodstains one day will dry"
.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.
He hated when Blaise gave him that look.
He bit the insides of his cheek in annoyance as he neared his cabin.
Why would he care? Why should he care? A blurry thought surfaced in his mind, but he can't remember it properly. Just another unclear image, a memory forgotten. He let out a small curse.
Stupid amnesia.
Too distracted, he accidentally bumped into Cleivar, letting out a hiss. The arm that had hit the other person hadn't healed yet and the pain shot up and numbed half of his right side. He got a look at the person.
Who were they? Despite living so close to these people, he doesn't even know anyone, not even his cabin mates. They were all strangers, making him feel like a foreign creature in the crowd. The odd one out.
Except for Blaise, of course, the man is probably the only home he can ever remember.
He dismissed his thoughts and turned, looking away from Cleivar as he rubbed his arm.
"Sorry," he simply muttered as he quickly walked to his cabin and hastily shut the main entrance. He ignored the glares and headed straight to the bathroom to change.
This isn't home. You don't belong here. Maybe you are one of them after all, his taunting mind whispered at him as he stood under the running water, his wet black hair covering his face. He stood still there for a while, letting the cool liquid wash him clean of dirt, grime and maybe a few of his problematic thoughts.
Silently, as he stood alone there, he did wonder...
What if he was one of them?
Isla Greer
Isla crouched next to the wreckage of a building. She supposed it may have once been a rickety old house, stacked on top of the ruins of another. Some poor elderly widow might have lived here, until the inevitable day she was dragged out, stuck to a pole, and thrust clean through with a spear.
What would her last thoughts have been of? Isla wondered. Her spouse? The smile of a long-dead sister? A knitting project? Or the remains of this house cast against a blazing flame?
"Hey, gov'ner! I think I found something!"
She straightened up, forgetting all about elderly widows and the smiles of dead children. Her companion's head popped through the door, and gave her a gap-toothed grin.
"There's a splatter of blood, y'see? That's what we're looking for, right? You wanted to see-"
"Survivors," she cut in.
"It's real fresh, I promise!"
That caught her attention. The massacre had been days ago. The smoke of the village had been spotted by merchants, and thoroughly avoided. What was someone doing here?
"Show me," she ordered.
Nora smiled at her. She gave an internal shudder. This was why she hated working with bounty hunters. Something about them was hollow, carved into. Whether it'd been by the years of trapping and killing or something that had drove them to the profession in the first place, she didn't know. But they weren't to be trusted, and they would turn on you at the slightest notice.
Not that that wasn't true of Isla's colleagues. But it was a dog eat dog world, and Isla was the top dog, at least in her department. With Bounty Hunters, you never knew what social structures they ceded to, or how to bend them to your will.
Nora's head popped out of view again, vanishing behind the wreckage of a scorched building. Isla followed after them.
Scorched ground, her mind murmured. Tactical advantage, leaving nothing to be salvaged for your enemy.
But this wasn't the work of patriotic villagers. No, their enemy had done this themself. Because they cared naught for resources or prisoners, only the control of another squat bit of land.
This was political. If people's lives were the cost of that man's control, then that man would pay the price readily.
Nora lead her on, humming under their breath. Each bouncy step sent a ripple through their thick hair. She self-consciously touched her own, cropped close to the skull, and not all that attractive.
She hated it, and yet-
The smile of another child, not gap-toothed or female, but instead a small boy who held her hand and trusted her absolutely.
She would keep it this way.
15 Minutes Later
Nora was telling the truth. On the burg walls, a splatter of fresh blood was visible. She touched her hand to it, and shuddered as a bit of the wall gave way. The person must have applied a light touch.
Nora waited, grinning at her. "So? We tracking them down, or what?"
"I suppose we must," she concluded. Then her eyes narrowed. "But we aren't killing them. If they're a survivor, then they have important tactical advantage on our enemy. Understand? No killing."
"Got it, got it, geez-" Nora rolled their eyes. "You really don't like me, do you, gov'ner?"
"Not particularly, no." She brushed past them, going past the splatter-
"Not that way."
She paused. "Oh? And why not? The blood smeared deeper in this direction. They clearly headed to the alley to hide-"
"Sure, but then they changed direction. The mark's probably a handprint, y'see? The height, and the state of the walls- The walls way too delicate, and they knew that."
"Meaning?"
"They were testing if it was safe to climb. Then they turned right round and looked for another way."
"Why wouldn't they head this way?" she asked.
"That's where the wall was blown out. If they're a villager, like you're thinking, they'd probably have known that, and be wary of any traps or somethin'. Probably not there, but you know how rabbits think! You just gotta apply it to people when they're scared."
"What a considerate metaphor." Isla scoffed. An ugly feeling wreathed around her heart. "Fine. You lead the way?"
Nora snickered at her. "Ya might not like me, but I sure like you! You've got a real tongue on you, you know that?"
"As I've heard."
Nora laughed, long and hard at that for some reason. They lead her through the village. Isla took note of each crumbled building.
A blacksmith worked there, perhaps with her two daughters. They slept at night, listening to the thrum of the fire and the creak of the tin roof.
A madman sat on the square, and played the fiddle for passersby. He learned that he earned more when he played love songs.
A girl loved rabbits. She slept every night, cuddling the rabbit stuffie, which now lay scorched and forgotten in the town square.
And these people, whether they had done these things or not, they had never existed. There was not a memory left of them in this place.
Unless, the survivor, the one they hoped-
Nora gave a cry of triumph, and leapt into a heap of rubble. Isla swore as she was hit with a scattering of gravel. "Be careful! Don't just-" she cut herself off, as Nora hauled someone out into the open.
An unconscious child- perhaps a gangly teenager- was lying in the patch of rubble. Their shoulder was bloody. As well as their hand, she noted with irritation.
"I think we found our survivor," Nora chirped gleefully.
"Indeed." Isla stared at the form. The person's breathing was light and damaged- too much smoke, or perhaps the effects of blood loss. How have they survived? she wondered. What factor enabled them to escape?
Nora coughed. She turned her glare to them. "So, uh, we're getting out of here, now? We have the survivor."
And she believed them on that. That there were no other survivors left in this village. Nora had a reputation, and they'd proved it correct again and again.
This was the only person left. And if they weren't quick enough, there could be no others.
With a curse, she hooked her arms around the teenager and hauled them up. Nora yelped as the human body was ripped from their arms. "H-Hey! I had 'em-"
Isla jerked the child in her arms and started for the village gate.
Some time later.
They'd reached it. A'Oura, the capital city, and only city of Rupratinra. The trip had been days- but, she had noted with increasing alarm that the teenager had never woken up.
Nora had suggested mouth to mouth and she'd smacked them. They laughed and ducked back into the wagon.
But now that they were actually approaching the gates, they'd fallen silent. They kept glancing at Isla and the child.
She wondered if they had a history with A'Oura. She supposed it was possible, though not likely. The precautions A'Oura employed were the only reason it still stood. Not a person was admitted without a thorough background check.
One a bounty hunter certainly wouldn't pass.
In any case, Isla was confident she could control them, if they did turn out to be dangerous. They were under her direct watch now, and she would follow through on her duty, regardless of whatever rapport the bounty hunter was struggling to establish. She didn't care for traitors.
She stopped at the gate, and prepared her identification. It would be a crude matter, but she was sure in her ability to get them through.
*Maya sighed and lifted her hand to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose as she shook her head.* Marius, when will you get that damn watch fixed? *Maya lowered her hand and looked towards him* I'm never la- *Maya was interrupted by a deep voice that emanated from another room. A big man who looked to be in his late 40's walked into view with a watch in his hand as well* No Maya, you're late again *Maya scoffed in disbelief but then the second man showed her his watch and her eyes widened. In contrast to Marius' watch which was never properly working, his was right on time and Maya let out an awkward laugh* Umm... oops?
*Marius leaned forwards in his chair and began to write on a piece of paper. As he wrote on it, he spoke to Maya* Show up late to your shift again, I will be forced to move you to the south wall. Understood? *He looked up towards Maya and ripped the paper to give to Maya. She gave him a slightly dirty look before snatching the paper from him and turning around to go to her post.*
Isla Greer
Someone was approaching from the back. She only heard one horse, so unless they'd magically synced it, there was no invasion. Casually, she tipped her head back and got a glimpse of a young girl- no, perhaps a young woman.
She frowned to herself. She didn't recognize the person, but in a city as big as A'Oura, it was to be expected. Something about her whispered that she wasn't native- perhaps it was the eyes, or something else. But something spoke of a slyness that a soldier wouldn't have.
Which was odd, considering the staff the girl wielded.
She nudged Nora. They glanced at her.
Scout, they mouthed.
A spy? she guessed.
No, they're fine.
She paused, studying Nora. She'd learned to trust their intuition- but if Nora was a spy themself, then this could be a risky call. She wouldn't trust them as far as she could throw them. But there was something genuine about them right now- something soft, perhaps, for the girl who had just arrived.
If this would be a dangerous situation, Nora wouldn't let the child into it. She didn't know why, but the thought had struck her and she couldn't shake it.
"I hope the gatekeepers get here soon," Isla commented.