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You know the drill folks! Fell free to follow along but if you are neither myself or Fawn, please do not post! Theme |
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The World | Haverndin - Current Kingdom in which this is set | Weather/Seasons: May - July This is the Spring/Summer season for Haverndin. It consists of cooler weather, starting at around low 70s get to a maxing off in the high 80s. On the VERY rare occasion of a heat wave, this time of year can bring around up to the mid 90s. The weather is usually rather calm with clear to low cloud skies and a rainstorm once every week or so. August - September These months carry the fall season where weather drops down between the high 50's and low 70s. At this point, the decline in weather starts slow and begins to pick up speed rather fast. The fall colors begin with the usual brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges but once frost begins to pick up, quickly die and the land starts to become more barren. It is usually very very early on in these months that the crops planted are quickly harvested and winter vegetables are started. October- Early December Winter has hit now. This is the warning period of winter when everyone needs to start hunkering down. The snow has started to fall though during this time is just periodic snows and flurries. The temperatures have dropped to tarry between the 40s and 50s. Most everything is frozen. December-February This is the worst time of year. The dredges of winter have arrived and it is constantly snowing and flurring. The skies are often dark and everything is either covered in snow, frost, or ice. Blizzards come often and rather unexpected at times. The temperature takes a hard tank and is fluctuating randomly from anywehere between the 30s and -5. March-April This is the cooling off period for winter. Everything has calmed down, the snow is coming less and less and the skies are starting to clear up. The temperature is back between the 50s and 60s and most everyone is starting to get ready for the planting season. Things are generally wet due to the melting which helps getting ready for the spring and to get everything coming back to life with a flourish. Economy ? : Harvests/Crops Honestly, there is only so much to do with the weather and harsh winter season in Haverndin. The harvest season is shorter because of it and the temperatures are lower than optimal. Corn can be planted and harvested though there have been years where it struggles due to early and late frosts. Winter wheat is one of the biggest assets because it can thrive rather well, as long as the heavy winter does not come early. There are also a few vegetables used such kale and carrots. Berry wise, Rose Hips, Cranberries, and Teaberries are rather popular due to being out between fall and winter.
Livestock Suprisingly, Haverndin is actually doing well in the livestock realm. There are 3 staple animals that live here and are farmed. Khaki Campbell ducks are used for their eggs and hardiness through the cold temperatures with a little help from their owners. Many people own them, even some of those who have extra property in the city. Tamworth hogs are mainly owned by farmers and are a the preffered breed because of their durability. They live rather well in the cold, even having piglets in the winter so that they can be sold in summer. The final livestock choice are Highland Cattle, though these are actually more of a specialty breed in the kingdom with people actually dedicated to their breeding, care, and selling. Some farm families may own one for milking but they are not as mainstream.
Resources It seems that Haverndin wouldn't have much going for it in the aspect of kingdom trade. However, this is actually far from true. As mentioned in livestock, there are specialized breeders for Highland Cattle, which because of their sturdiness will sometimes be traded with nearby kingdoms who, while having lighter winters, sometimes get harsh cold fronts and lose their livestock. The other main resource is the biggest and most sought after. Haverndin has strong sturdy trees, necessary to hold up through the winter. The trunks are made of compact wood, amazing for ship building and great for exporting to kingdoms with ports. This being said, Haverndin is ver careful about how much they take, not wanting to tear down their forests which are instrumental towards their life. Therefore, their wood is more in demand and worth more.
Currency There are three forms of currency in Haverndin. There is a set coin currency used, most often for simple buying and selling and ease of trade. It is great in the city and for travelling, as well as being used for inter-kingdom exchange. There is also a barter system that some individuals prefer, mainly those in tight-knit communities and towns, though the coin currency is still in high demand. Finally there are labor trades, though these are mainly with lower-class working with higher-class. This usually happens on the farms where a person will trade their labor for food and shelter. All forms are acknowledged throughout the kingdom as viable.
Lifestyle: Food The diet of those in Haverndin is rather natural despite the harsh conditions. Because of the wheat, they are heavy into bread products and during the winter, will often use jams and teas from the berries. Pork and beef are the main source of meat, however, venison isn't a rare thing to find on the table. People very rarely are in want for food despite the weather conditions. Travel Travel is best and most often done during the spring and summer months as it is the easiest time. Horseback is the main way to get from place to place during this time. Yakutian and Bashkir horses are the main breeds, Bashkir more often used during the warmer months and Yakutain during the freezing temperatures. When the snow is heavy, the horses will be hooked up to sleds/sleighs though there is very rarely any long distance travel done during this time. Housing The housing systems for people in Haverndin is nothing special to look at. Houses in the city look as one would expect, with inns and apartment systems. Many business have their homes on the second floor. Those living in smaller towns and farms have house structures similar to cabins. The main difference to what would be normally expected is that the walls are thicker and more insulated and it is VERY rare for there not to be come kind of stove or fireplace in every room. Some places do have rounder designs on the inside though otherwise, all is what would be expected. Social Constructs In Haverndin, there is a huge press for equality, especially seen among the Gifted who are treated well, if not better. In general, it is a pleasant place that stands for making sure no one is left behind or looked down upon. However, there is some gray area when it comes to women. Those who are gifted are often fine in the society, seen just as good as any normal man because of their skills. But when it comes to normal women, there is a bit of a a heirarchy in some families, though not all. It is generally accepted though that there is a difference between jobs for men and women. Women are discouraged and looked down upon for hard labor jobs such as blacksmithing, fighting, ect (unless gifted in which case there are usually exceptions). Jobs: (I'm just gonna list for now. Descriptions may or may not happen for this section because of how MANY there are. lol) Farmers Lumberjacks Cattle Herders/Breeders Bakers Healers Midwives Blacksmith Tailor/Seamstress Professors Farriers Tradesmen Various Castle Positions Various Army Positions (I'm sure there are WAY more) |
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Magic System:
Overview:
Some special individuals in this world are blessed with the ability to use magic. Most people in the kingdoms are normal humans, living their normal lives without any assistance from some greater power within them. But some people, born at random, are gifted with strange abilities. Some kingdoms treat these people unfairly, as if they have some sort of curse or as if they are less than human. Others view these people as no different than everyone else, fully accepted in everyday life and in the military as the unique individuals they are. These unique people are called the Gifted. In kingdoms where they are less loved, the term "Gifted" has evolved into something derogatory and insulting, but in places where they are accepted, Gifted is no insult but a compliment and an acknowledgment of the blessing they hold.
Types of Gifts
Gifts can range from those causing healing to those causing harm. Descriptions of general types of Gifts are included below, but should not be considered to be a comprehensive list of all possible Gifts.
Healing - Those in the medical field with healing Gifts are generally referred to as healers (as opposed to medics or doctors) if their Gifts can directly or indirectly encourage healing. Healing Gifts can range from the ability to see internal injuries that others can't, to the ability to speed up the healing process of wounds to a reasonable extent, to the ability to know exactly what is wrong with a sick person. These Gifts are often more strongly linked to the use of song and music than most others. No known link to Soul Magic; healers are generally kept out of the types of stressful situations that would expose the influence of Soul Magic.
Mental Manipulation - This is a broad category of all Gifts related to the mind and the person's perception of the world around them. It includes the Gifts of illusion, hypnosis, and telepathy, among many others. Also included in this category are Gifts affecting sleep (inducing an unconscious state, preventing sleep, causing someone to be unable to focus due to extreme drowsiness, etc.) Gifteds with mental manipulation abilities have a bit of a bad reputation, but they aren't inherently bad people due to their abilities. They use their Gifts for good reasons or they don't use them at all, as a general rule. But of course, there are always exceptions. Strong link to song, no known link to Soul Magic.
Emotional Manipulation - Exactly what it sounds like; these are Gifted who are able to read and manipulate emotions. The person manipulated will usually not even know that they are being manipulated. Also included in this category are those frowned-upon Gifts that inflict pain on another person, without leaving visible injury.
Enhanced Abilities - Another broad category, this includes any Gift that enhances an ability already present. This could be increased speed, increased strength, the ability to see or hear things that should be far out of range, and others. These Gifts have a strong connection with Soul Magic, though the exact link is uncertain. Their link to the use of song and music is not as strong as some other Gifts, with most learning to use their abilities without making any noise at all.
Matter and Environmental Manipulation - Telekinesis, elemental manipulation, force fields, etc. These Gifts are often sought-after by the Rithnarians, as soldiers who can manipulate the battlefield itself to be in their favor are particularly valuable to them. These Gifts also have a strong connection to Soul Magic, strengthening when certain emotions are present.
Gift Manipulation - These people are unique, as far as Gifted go. Some can temporarily remove or disable others' Gifts, some can "steal" Gifts and use them temporarily. Some can even transfer Gifts from one person to another, or "broadcast" certain gifts over entire groups of people for a limited amount of time and at great physical cost. This type of Gift is strongly linked to the use of song, but not to Soul Magic.
Song and Gifts:
Some Gifted can use their abilities without any verbal or vocal cues, but most Gifts are activated by the use of song, especially those manipulating thought processes or emotions, like the way sirens call sailors on the shores. The singing doesn't have to be loud and showy, it can be a soft humming tune if nothing else. Most Gifted who do use singing prefer to use a soft, soothing song to activate their Gifts, such as an old lullaby.
Soul Magic:
Some Gifts, particularly those relating to self-defense and other combat skills, seem to be tied to a person's character; their emotions especially but often their personality and everything about them as a person. This is referred to as Soul Magic, and is viewed with some indifference. It isn't particularly an asset, because the Gifted's ability to use their powers could be restricted to when they're threatened or afraid. Then again, it isn't always a setback either, sometimes giving a person an incredible increase in the strength of their gifts under certain circumstances.
Effects of Overusing Gifts:
Using Gifts has a price, and that price is usually paid in exhaustion. Overuse of Gifts related to the manipulation of the mind (telepathy, illusion, hypnosis) usually brings about a terrible headache that can last for days, as well as unbearable exhaustion and a general unwell feeling. Combat-related Gifts such as telekinesis, forcefield wielding, and enhanced strength, especially if the Gifted is inexperienced, can cause overwhelming fatigue and physical pain, particularly in the muscles but sometimes affecting the joints as well. It's said that it feels exactly like physical overexertion. Gifts of healing rarely have such dramatic repercussions, though exhaustion and headaches aren't out of the ordinary if they use their Gifts too often for days at a time. If a Gift remains hidden into adulthood, the physical toll of using the Gift is often much worse than it would be otherwise.
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Dark Gifts:
The Rithnarians are known to use a twisted form of healing magic, referred to as forced healing. Rithnar uses it because it doesnt tax their healers. Basically, energy is transferred from the rest of their body to their wound as a patch job, relieving the pain and strengthening the affected area. It just fixes it for the moment but eventually the energy gets redivides through their body, leaving the injury more mutilated than before. They keep doing that for quick patch jobs until the injury can no longer be fixed and the person is useless, at which point a human soldier would be released from the army and a Gifted soldier would be killed, put down like a crippled animal.
Perception/Acceptance of Gifteds:
In Rithnar where Gifted people are unwanted, the age when Gifts are revealed results in many Gifted children being abandoned or cast out by their parents. Most children living on the streets are Gifted, and in some places that struggle with bandits and outlaws ambushing travelers, the bandits are mostly Gifted as well, trying to make the most of a terrible situation. They aren't typically violent murderers, but they will use their abilities to catch travelers off-guard. Mental manipulation gifts are particularly useful in that way of life. The Rithnarian army has begun to capture Gifted who live this lifestyle, imprisoning them and slowly transforming them into weapons by way of hypnosis, mental manipulation by other Gifted, and torture. They are almost ready to begin using these people as weapons in battle.
In Haverndin and in Cierndal, their allied country, Gifted people are accepted just as normal people. They are rarely cast out when their powers manifest; having a Gifted in the family is a blessing, in fact. As they grow, they are encouraged to hone and strengthen their Gifts, and to use their Gifts to make a living when they're older. Healing Gifts are particularly valued here. Some who have Gifts that are more suited to combat are encouraged to join the military, but they are not forced or manipulated in their choice in any way. Most do join the military, knowing what they fight for in this war.
More General Information:
It is not unheard of for Gifts to remain hidden until the Gifted is older, though most Gifts do appear at a young age. Generally between the ages of eight and ten is when the abilities begin to appear. The ratio of normal humans to Gifted is somewhere around fifty to one, meaning that roughly two percent of the population is Gifted. In reality this number is likely a bit higher, but some Gifted hide their abilities for fear of rejection, and the number of Gifts that remain hidden until adulthood have yet to be studied. A Gifted can be born to two normal humans, as the Gift itself could be viewed as a genetic mutation. The chance is higher, though, if one or both parents are Gifted. Gender-wise, Gifteds are more likely to be female than male, with two male Gifted for every three females. Gifted in general tend to avoid settling down as they grow older. It is uncommon for a Gifted to have children; perhaps they have a wanderer's spirit, or some sort of longing for deeper understanding of themselves that overrides the desire to get married and settle. It's not unheard of for a Gifted to have a family, but it is more difficult for them than for normal humans to ignore the wanderlust in their souls. They typically don't like being tied down.
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:Name:
Alyana Tirfallen
:Nickname(s):
Ali
:Alias:
Allen
:Age:
25
:Gender:
Female
:Rank:
Footsoldier
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:Appearance:
(Credits to Fawn ~ 164665) She's slightly above average in height, standing at about 5'6" with a build that isn't particularly feminine. Her body is quite muscular for a woman, her lower body more so than her upper body. She has broad shoulders and a relatively small chest, with long arms. Her hips are fairly narrow, not as wide as her shoulders, and her legs are also long. However, with clothes that aren't bulky and layered enough, she is still very clearly a woman, judging by her figure alone. Her hands are small, but rough, the hands of someone who has seen hardship and work.
Her hair, clumsily cut short enough to pass off as male, is dark red in color, with a curly, wavy texture that is seen much clearer when she grows it out. In some lights, the dark color seems to be the exact shade of fresh blood, though she doesn't see it that way. When her hair was long, she kept it out of her face, tied back with a ribbon.
Her face is round, with an ever so slightly squared jawline that makes it easier for someone to assume she's male with her hair short. Her eyes are large for her face, pale ice-blue in color, and always shining with amusement at some joke or another. Her lips are thin, but she has a wide smile that lights up her whole face. She has pale skin and a ton of freckles, all over her face, neck, and shoulders. They cover her hands and forearms, too.
Her usual apparel consists of her armor, which is light and inexpensive, made of leather instead of steel. Under her armor, she has a poorly-made chainmail shirt, with visible repairs from several damaged places where a sword sliced or an arrow pierced. The shirt was not made for her; a particularly visible repair was made directly over the heart, where the chainmail fatally failed for its last wearer. (Needless to say, she doesn't have much faith in it.) Over her shoulders, to shield her from the bitter cold her kingdom is known for, a soft, warm fur from an unknown animal is draped. It's most likely a wolf's pelt.
:Personality:
To be frank, Alyana is rude. She's standoffish, she's cold. She isolates herself from anything resembling human company, and she snaps at anyone who comes too close. She's afraid, afraid that they'll figure her out, afraid that they'll tell her captain. He'll send her home if he ever finds out, she's sure of it. And she can never go home. So she spends her days working as hard as she can, training and fighting and doing whatever labor needs to be done, trying to avoid the captain's eye, trying to blend in. She's a hard worker, too, often outworking some of the strongest men in her unit. She does what she's told, no matter what, despite her rude and harsh exterior. And despite her every urge to argue if the captain gives a stupid command or is wrong about something, she follows every order to the best of her ability.
But everyone has their flaws, and Ali is no exception. Lately, to deal with the stress and emotional strain of being alone and struggling to maintain this elaborate lie, she has turned to alcohol to soothe herself, and may have developed a minor drinking problem. She knows it's a problem, and has tried to stop every time, but it seems that she always caves eventually. She's disgusted with that part of herself... With most parts of herself, really. There are days when she asks herself if it's all really worth it, if it would be easier to just go home and give up her freedom again, to live a life of slavery to the man who was supposed to love her.
:History:
She was born to a poor family. Her parents struggled to feed her and her siblings; two sisters and a brother. It got even harder when her father fell ill and passed away when she was young, leaving a burden on her shoulders as the eldest that no ten-year-old should have to bear. She started working then, odd jobs around the village. She picked up a bad habit of stealing to feed herself and working to feed her siblings, but when she was caught she learned her lesson quickly enough.
She was sixteen when the opportunity came. She was to marry the heir of the richest family in town. And she seized the opportunity, a chance to ensure that her family was fed and taken care of. She was married to him a few days before her seventeenth birthday, after only speaking to him sporadically for a few weeks. She knew nothing of this man, who was a complete stranger to her, and she would soon find out that he was not the pleasant man he appeared to be. He was ten years older than her, if not more. At first, all was well. Food and money was sent to her family, enough to sustain them. But as the weeks and months passed, it seemed that her husband was not the man she thought he was. His attitude toward her grew colder, and he became emotionally and verbally abusive, threatening violence to get her to do as he told. Verbal threats eventually turned physical, and soon she felt unsafe in her own home.
Still, she stayed with him for years, a fake smile on her face as she struggled to hold herself together. She became pregnant at the age of twenty-one with his baby, and miscarried due to his abuse. It was then that she fled in the middle of the night with a half-formed plan in her mind, grief and pure desperation guiding her. She disguised herself, she cut her hair, she came up with a male version of herself, and she joined the military.
:Other:
all of my characters have terrible backstories i'm sorry
:My Other Characters:
Dakryn Emer - Haverndin Soldier - Non-Gifted - Sent home
Adan Rifyn - Haverndin Soldier - Non-Gifted - Dead
Feyre Bennett - Haverndin Healer, Civillian - Non-Gifted
Aerich (Eric) Varant - Rithnarian Prisoner - Gifted (Seer)
Terrin Aegar - Rithnarian Prisoner - Gifted (ability to transfer Gifts)
Kenah - Rithnarian Traitor - Gifted (Mental Manipulation) (evil as hecc) Darrin Mikol - Haverndin Commoner - Non-Gifted (Ali's ex-husband) Caine Konnerson - Haverndin Soldier - Non-Gifted - Dead Orym Faretall - Haverndin Healer - Gifted (Healing) |
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“You screw up and everyone pays the price. What affects you, affects us all” § Name § Aladar Berester (Al-uh-dar Bear-ester) § Nickname § Darri (only used by his sister) § Age § 28 § Rank § Captain § Appearance § Standing at 5’6", Alasdar is on the shorter end for his gender, many of the soldiers under his command towering over him in stature. What he lacks in height however, he makes up for in build. The Captain has a strong, muscular athletic build, sporting a trapezoidal body. His shoulders are broad and straight, the line of his body tapering down only so slightly to his hips, making them noticeable as well. His strength is evenly distributed between his abs, biceps, and calf, Alasdar using every muscle with equal continuity. His legs surprisingly take up less of his height than his torso, giving him a slightly more compact look, though not enough to cause him to look disproportionate or aesthetically unpleasing. Overall, his body type is very equaled out and he does not carry too much muscle, but enough to prove his strength and dedication to his line of work. In essence, the perfect athletic build. The man has a heart shaped face in the idea that his jaw has very defined lines rounding off at the chin with a steady oval rounding over his head. His eyes are monolid shaped and slightly hooded with short lashes. He has mocha brown irises, specked with darker brown streaks throughout. They are often very expressive when it comes to his concern or very frustrated. This is helped by heavy eyebrows resting close to his eyes. This being said, they aren’t bulky, but more of thick steep-arched brows. His nose has more of a thinned out nubian shape, mostly straight except for a very small dent on the left side of the bridge. His lips are thin, with a soft cupid’s bow, though the top is not as defined to see because of a classic full beard. Not long by any means, but groomed short and close to his face, two small rectangles under his lips being clean shaven. His hair is a mushroom brown color, also seen in his beard and eyebrows. He has very straight hair, kept to bob length. Because of its length and straightness, he is able to just push it back down his head, similar to being slicked back but more natural. Lengthwise, it isn’t quite long enough to even put into a small ponytail. When wet (which is quite often in the winter months because of the snow) it has a very slight wave at the ends. During warmer weather, which takes up a little less than six months of the year, Aladar wears a simple leather vest with golden buttons down the front. He wears it over a chainmail undershirt with short sleeves, showing his biceps. A blue cape attached to metal shoulder pads flows from his back, going down about to knee length to indicate his rank. He tends to wear leather breeches and his sword is slung over his shoulder and behind his back. For footwear, he wears calf-high heavy work boots. During the winter, his outfit is much more elaborate for temperature and complications brought about by the harsh weather. He wears full thick leather gear with a soft pelted inside for warmth. He wears a thin metal chest plate and over that, a long-sleeved jacket. He wears thick leather thigh pads and metal shoulder pads over the jacket. He also wears thin gloves with metal plating on the back of his hands. There are multiple leather belts that cross over his waist and across his shoulders for him to store extra items. His sword is still slung over his back and he wears the same work boots. Scar-wise, Aladar has gotten the better end of the straw though he has not walked out unscathed by any means. As a Captain, he will often be riding a horse into battle and therefore has an advantage of height. This being said, it leaves his legs rather vulnerable to getting nicked and sliced at. He has various scars along his calves and thighs though nothing major. His forearms are also marked and nicked and he does have a few smaller slashes along his torso. Otherwise, nothing that has been life-threatening yet. § Personality § The first thing about Aladar is for what he lacks in height, he makes up for in personality and brains. The first, and most important thing to note about the Captain is that he will take no crap. He knows his place and he expects everyone to know theirs. It is less a matter of pride and more running a tight ship. He likes things to be organized and working properly, and as a Captain in the midst of war, he can’t afford mistakes and will hold everyone accountable for their actions. He expects trust and loyalty from all the men under his command. Aladar is not afraid to play hardball or dole out punishment as necessary. All that said, he cares deeply for his soldiers. Much of his harshness comes from a good place in his heart, though he is never cruel. He will often check on those under his command and be sure that everyone is well. His men’s safety and health is highly important to them, as is their comfort though he can only do so much in that respect. He will often spend much of his personal time among them, training them personally and even at times searching for their thoughts. He believes in teamwork and makes sure everyone else does as well. He does have somewhat of a hard layer but all the soldiers who actually talk with him know him to be a kind and just soul. The man also has a hidden sense of humor, though it is masked in the circumstance. Because of the stress and pull of his position and job, sometimes he can seem a bit down and struggling, though that is only if you catch him off guard. Most of the time, he hides any personal pull. While he encourages his men to be forthcoming, he holds his own issues close to his breast, though those are mainly revolving around the war itself. § Family § Naomi Feleay – Sister (married) Tallimas Berester - Mother ~
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~ My Other Characters: Lebuin De Artenias (Gifted) - Haverndin Healer/Medic Gregory Master - Allied Soldier Tendral Hastings - Foot Soldier/ Assistant to the Captain |
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:Army: Ranks: Sergeant Sergeants are in charge of a squad of soldiers. This means they take care of between 8-16 soldiers. Lieutenant They are in charge of a Platoon, which is equal to 2-4 squads or 16-44 soldiers. Sergeants report to them. Captain In charge of a company, equal to 3-5 platoons, or 60-200 soldiers. Lieutenants report to them. Colonel They are in charge of a brigade/batallion which rounds out to 3+ companies and 300 - 3,200 soldiers General Just.... everyone. So a LOT of soldiers. A LOT. Current War: History A few years back, Rithnar attacked Cierndal for reasons that are still not understood. Cierndal was a much smaller kingdom and was struggling in the war and beginning to lose footing. Haverndin, being an ally to Cierndal, stepped in and helped push Rithnar back out. For a while, everything seemed peaceful and Cierndal was left in peace. However, not long ago, Rithnar has made a full blown attack on Haverndin. Cierndal is still weak and cannot come to the assistance of Haverndin.... Current Strategy The current stratedgy is to use home advantage. With Rithnar pressing in past Haverndin borders, they army is using their harsh winters to try and help as the soldiers are familiar with surviving the conditions. Cierndal is still too weak to offer manpower, but they have been smuggling resources for the army itself including blankets, tents, armor, medicine, and food. Now it is a waiting game.... |
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It had been the worst possible day, to use nice words. Nice words weren't things that Ali used often, she preferred more... descriptive adjectives to make her point known. But on this day, she would use nice words, in hopes that the nice words would appease the gods somehow and make them have mercy on her and her fellow soldiers. How were they to know that Rithnar would be waiting for them, fully armed and ready for a battle that Haverndin wasn't even prepared for? Rumors of spies spread quickly through the crude camp that had been set up, as the low-ranked soldiers clustered in groups of threes and fours around small, pitiful fires. Who had sold them out to Rithnar? Who had betrayed them? Had anyone betrayed them at all? Rumors of Rithnar's Gifted army had spread across the camp as well, and now many feared that they were true.
Not that Alyana cared at the moment. Her place was not huddled around a pitiful flame with three other soldiers, not tonight anyways. She'd been injured during the epic failure of a fight, and her left forearm had been sliced by an enemy's blade. She was less concerned with the wound itself than she was that it had destroyed her vambrace; sliced through the thick, tough leather as if it had been nothing.
As a result of her injury, she'd been "rewarded" by being allowed to stay in the warmth of the main tent. The large structure had been raised in the center of the camp; a long tent, just tall enough for a tall man to walk without hitting his head on a low pole. Several dozen soldiers were packed into the tent, and the back part was also functioning as an infirmary at the moment, with crude cots set up for men who moaned with every movement. Healers and their assistants moved frantically between them, offering water and warm broth to those who were strong enough. Haverndin had not escaped unscathed; she hadn't heard the exact numbers yet but some were saying they'd lost hundreds. She didn't doubt it. The bloodshed she'd seen today... Even the sunset seemed to be stained crimson, like the fields below it that had once been crisp white with snow.
Ali sat in the far corner of the tent, legs sprawled out as she scowled lightly at the sliced leather of her armor. While other soldiers around her carefully sipped bowls of warm soup that had been distributed among them, the one called Allen found comfort of another type; the half-finished flask of strong alcohol in her uninjured hand. She was already drunk, her cheeks flushed and a faint scowl on her face as she tried to tune out a couple of men who were singing some sort of hymn nearby. The sound turned her alcohol-muddled thoughts sour; there was no god here. If there was, once, he'd long since left when he saw how far his "loyal servants" had fallen. She finished the thought by taking another gulp from the flask, sighing and closing her eyes to escape the headache brought on by the noise and the light of the fire.
She wasn't the only one dealing with the crippling defeat in her own way; a few men leaned over bottles and flasks, desperate for the embrace of drunkenness to ease their pain. Ali didn't see herself that way; those men were truly pitiful, broken people. She was blind to the fact that she was just as broken and lost as they were.
Hearing heavy footsteps approach, she took another drink, then set her flask aside, squinting up at the poor soul who'd dared to approach her with a sour look on her face.
"What do you want?" she spat, not recognizing him. The ends of her words slurred together slightly, and she didn't try to speak more coherently. |
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The day had brought with it terrible bloodshed, bloodshed that had not been planned on. Aladar stood with his hands on the rickety wood table in his tent, leaning heavily on them as he stared down at the papers that had finally been completed. It was one of those documents no Captain wanted to fill out, yet ever single one had to this time. The head count…. All the names of those who didn’t come back, written down on more than one sheet of paper. Hundreds had been lost, totaling over fifty in his own Company… more than one fourth of his men. A heavy sigh escaped him as he straightened, running a hand over his face. “This one’s in Your hands,” he murmured into the air before grabbing the papers, folding them and stepping out into the freezing air. “Tendral, take this to the General,” he called out, waving one of the foot soldiers over that catered to his needs particularly. An assistant of sorts. The tall lanky man moved over rather quickly, nodding as he secured the papers and moved off, well aware the Captain took no interest in tarrying, and this evening was no exception. No, Aladar wanted to get to his men, the ones who had made it home. They had all seen things that no man should ever… bodies… friends killed before their eyes… white snow melting beneath warm blood spilled across the crystal expanse. Words were spoken under his breath, a puff of white air coming from his mouth as the only indication anything had been spoken. He had to fight the urge to shudder and lean against something at the horrendous images that haunted him as well. But this wasn’t about him. It was about them… It was about the men huddled around the fire, looking for warmth and comfort in the orange flames. He was on his way to the main tent to see the injured but stopped long enough to check on a couple of the men, striding over and resting a gloved hand on their shoulders. No words were spoken, none needed to be. He felt their pain and they understood his comfort and in these times, that meant enough. Not as much as he would have liked though… the winter holiday was on top of them. There was supposed to be a celebration going on, cheery voices after a good battle. But somehow, somehow Rithnar had been waiting for them. His hand fisted for a moment as he stepped up to the tent that was already getting to shabby for his liking in the weather. The new supplies were to come in soon. He prayed they arrived soon, anything to offer a little more security and something for the men to celebrate. Cierndal had yet to let them down. It was just enough hope to rally his spirits some and straightened again, confidence radiating off him as he entered with a flourish. It burned him what he saw. The moans coming from the back caused his eyes to crease as if for a mere moment, he felt all their pain. If only he could protect them more, somehow have known and provided safety and shelter. But there was nothing more to be done about them but leave them in the hands of the medics. At least those in the back. There were still many soldiers scattered in various spots, drinking, singing, or conversing in quiet broken words. Everyone searching for some way to forget. But one man stood out. Allen. The soldier had always been aloof from the rest. He made no friends, no bonds… he worked and kept busy and that was about it. And now it was clear he was drinking. Aladar believed he caught sight of the leather armor somewhat mangled on the man’s arm and moved forward to investigate and see if he was okay. It was the least he could offer for the moment, though when he got near the man, drunken words were spat in his direction. Aladar was not phased for the moment, it quite clear that the man was one of the drunk ones, not thinking clearly. “Is that anyway to speak to your Captain?” he huffed lightly, squatting down in front of the man to see somewhat glassy eyes, though his attention was on the arm that he could now see had been injured. “Have you seen medical attention for this?” he inquired, reaching out to grasp the appendage and inspect it, not pleased with what he saw. It wasn’t life threatening at the moment, but if an infection set in, another good soldier could be lost. “Lebuin! A moment!” His head swiveled to look towards the back cots where a young doctor was making himself busy, stopping at the call of his superior officer and stepping towards them. “Have you treated this man?” he asked before turning his attention back to Allen, leaning in to attempt and meet the man’s eyes and keep him steady in his sitting position so Lebuin could work his magic. Quite literally, the young medic being a Gifted, though only to the extent of being able to draw out an energy force to see the wounds in a three-dimensional manner. “Allen, isn’t it?” Aladar looked his soldier over to try and judge if there were any other wounds not looked to, besides the mental and emotional ones that could only heal in time... if a person was lucky. |
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Lightbringer
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She leaned her head back to stare up at him, blinking a couple of times before her blurred vision could partially focus on his face. When she finally could put some semblance of a name and rank to the face she saw, her scowl deepened, and she looked away from him as her brow furrowed. One of her hands found the half-empty flask of alcohol and raised it to her lips, and she drank again, nearly swaying in place. Then, moving her arm very deliberately, she returned the flask to its place and squinted up at the captain again.
Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled in mild disgust. "You're no captain," she muttered, the words intended to be under her breath or not spoken aloud at all. Then again, she didn't have much self-control at the moment, and it had been a particularly awful day.
"No captain... would lead his people into that... hell." She trailed off at times, her eyes squinted as she stared past him and strained for the words to use. "Like sheep to be killed." The soldier blinked for a moment, meeting his gaze again with glazed, distant eyes. Her voice was gravelly, her words slurred. One hand rested on the ground next to her, her fingers digging into the damp, bare soil in an attempt to help her keep her balance. An endeaver that was growing much harder as time passed, and yet she kept drinking, in hopes that perhaps the pain and memories of the day, of the defeat, would fade somewhat and give her relief. She, like so many others that chose this dangerous road, didn't seem to understand that she'd never be able to forget it forever.
Her reflexes were delayed as he reached out and grabbed her arm, but she hissed in pain, attempting to yank free from him. "I'm fine... Captain," she spat the last word with venom, finally managing to free her hand for the moment and cradling her injured forearm. "Mind your own damn business."
She seethed for a few seconds, as the medic approached. She looked up at him, then sighed and attempted to remove the ruined armor from her forearm. The tiny buckles proved to be particularly difficult for her clumsy fingers, but she finally got it off and set it aside, holding her arm out for him to see. She knew about this particular doctor's "gift", but she'd never seen him actually use it. Not that she cared too much.
"That's my name," she muttered, turning her scathing glare to the captain again. The name she'd taken on as some sort of alias, the name she'd used to escape. The name that had become almost more a part of her than her real one; she hadn't heard the name Alyana in years.
Why was she so angry at him? Why him in particular? It wasn't as if he'd had any say in the battle plans. He hadn't known what would happen when he led his men right to the heart of Rithnar's camps. Yet in her own twisted mind, in this moment, the blame rested wholly upon this man's shoulders.
"I'm fine. Why don't you... leave me the hell alone and go bother somebody else?" |
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Winter Month: 3 
Day Weather: 
Fog
