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[RPG] The Wings of Hall

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Krozam:
The Wings of Hall

The fortress of Beil, in Eastern Nantii. Currently controlled by Duke Tevor, but besieged by Duke Solius.


Night was falling on the Hills of Beil. Torches were lit in the camp of Duke Solius' army, which spread all over the hills surrounding the impressive fortress. Looking upon the scene from a bird's view, you might think it a disorganized sight, but that was just an illusion created by the disruptive hills. In truth, Duke Solius' army was an oasis of order in the chaos that gripped the whole of Nantii. And it was all thanks to one man: Commander Haakon, the unquestioned leader of this army.
   Haakon's tent was situated opposite to the fortress gates, on top of a high hill that gave an unobstructed view towards the fortress. Two armed-to-the-teeth elite guards stood at the entrance. Inside, two men held counsel.
   
"Tell me honestly... can you do it?" A man sitting behind a desk asked the other man, sitting opposite him on the other side of the desk.
   "I'm not good with calculating chances," the other man replied with a completely straight face, "so I'll just say 'yes'."
   The man behind the desk sighed and leaned back on his heavy wooden chair, his armor rustling like a bag of coins. "I know your reputation, but we are talking about the Fortress of Beil. It has never been taken with force during its four hundred years of history. I would hate to waste your enormous advance pay because of your arrogance."
   "Life is full of risks, Commander. You know as well as I do that this is the most viable option we have in this situation. Time is running short, we need to get inside within a month. And believe it or not, The Wings of Hall are your best shot."
   Commander Haakon stood up. He was a large man, around his mid-forties, with a very... commanding presence. He was wearing a full-body plate armor - the thing probably weighed as much as the man himself - seemingly without much effort. Nicolaos had to admit he felt genuine respect for this man. Which is why he'd made a contract with Duke Solius in the first place, instead of someone among his dozen of rivals.
   "Wine?" The Commander asked, reaching for the carafe of red wine on his desk.
   "No thank you." Nicolaos shook his head slightly. He was dressed in his usual attire: a brown, hoodless robe of fine make and some embroidery, a red sash on his waist. The curved blade on his back also had a red cloth on its hilt, the mark of a Rowosian Swordmaster. He wore no armor whatsoever, indicating a strong faith in his skill and the divine protection of his god.
   "It's about time," the cleric said, rising on his feet, after a moment of companionable silence.
   "Yes. Good luck on your mission. I'll be waiting for the crow."
   Nicolaos turned his back, waved his left hand casually in acknowledgement, and headed out of the tent.

Outside, barely a hundred meters from the tent, waited his band of mercenaries. Nicolaos calmly walked the path down the hill. He felt their eyes on him, some expectant, some indifferent. His face was expressionless, unwavering. He did not stop when he reached them. He walked right through the group and headed towards the fortress.
   "Let's go," was all he said to them.

Irie Naoki:
Having traveled for a long time finally being able to rest, Darwin sits down on a chair small distance away from the others, looking into the sky and seeing the clouds move slowly. His sword stabbed to the ground standing without having to hold it. Aching to go fly and soar with the clouds waiting as Nicolaos walked into the commander's tent while the others were chatting.

Opening his water bottle to get a drink he notices that its empty. While walking to refill the bottle he notices a woman who was around some of the soldiers. A good looking woman in the near thirties with quite heavy plate armor and a duble edged sword she is holding while the end is stuck to the ground. While filling the bottle as Darwin stares at her he notices that she looks over to him and smiles alittle. Quickly he turned around and turned a little red on his cheekes in embaresment. As he walked back to the tent he thought about that woman, sitting at his seat again and looking at the clouds.

As Nicolaos walked down the road with determination in his eyes Darwin knew we got the job, waiting for him to give the order.
   "Lets go" Nicolaos said
Darwin grabbed his sword and placed it on his back while following him but sad that he did not get to know the womans name.

Soulbourne:
Aidan had followed Nicholas on a long march through these lands, his equipment tied to his body by various leather harnesses to use as weight training across the long march.  They had followed the army to this large fortress, an impressive edifice high on the hill of unfeeling stone that stared condescendingly down upon the pitiful ants that sought to claim it's walls.  The towering edifices were impressive, but the awe of such great fortresses had faded by now.  Be it walls of wood and earth of his home or mountains of stone of these lands-the tactics to make them fall was always the same.

The camp was obviously led by practiced soldiers, for they worked efficiently and effectively at surrounding and entrenching the fortress upon arrival.  The chain of command allowing for quick duties, and making sure even new recruits had the skills to correctly dig latrines and setup tents while more experienced individuals dug into the fortress outside arrow distance to create siegeworks that completely sealed all exits while maintaining a defense network for those monitoring movement.  The work was impressive, and he had a general understanding even if some of the local barbarian traditions weren't done by his own men.

It was effective work, but for now he stood near the command tent.  His shield rested on the ground, hard packed from numerous feet pounding along it, it's painted surface flashing with numerous colors in the torchlight.  His sword was attached to his lower back by a harness and sheath, cover by his cloak as his knees had him knelt and bent, his short spear held in hand and leaned against his shoulder.

Bathed in flashing shadow and light of the torches was his bare body, open to the elements besides the cloak.  His skin had patterns of holy paint upon it, divine protection enhancing his physique and defending him with the god of wars hand.  He muttered silently, listening to the group around him as he contemplated what may come.  He was in a distant land fighting foriegn wars, but would be happy to finally get into battle.  His mind drifted inward as his senses stayed outward, tactically viewing what may happen by night end. 

He jolted up as Nicholas came out, standing and pulling up his shield as he walked by.  His body became much more visible as he turned, the heavy cloak flying up a little as he silently followed the commander.  Twould be a long night.

Septe:
Harold continued checking his pouches for holes and sturdiness.  Satisfied with them, he laid them in a pile, ready to be secreted.  He checked over his mattock for nicks and cracks.  He noted a couple but decided they weren't bad enough that he'd need to drop it off to the blacksmith.  When he does, he'll add a couple more units of weight to make it slightly heavier.  He pulled out his leather cloak and put it on.  Checking over it's pockets, he starts putting satchels of powder into various pockets, then moved a couple of katas to make sure his movements were unrestricted and silent.  Noticing a jangle, he pulled out some loose coins and put them into his money pouch.

As he picked up his mattock, Nicolaos came up, stating, "Let's go."  Harold picked up his pack and puts it on.  Holding his mattock, starts marching behind the group.  Grimly, he thought, "Another day, more shit." and sighed.

Listomar:
It had been a long while since the last battle, and Ishman was anxious to polish his technique. Last time he had miscalculated the protection a plate mail gave, and though the man was in no condition to fight afterwards, he did not die, as Ishman had intended. He needed to correct this... imperfection, in his technique.

Though the camp didn't lack squires and servants to suit Ishman's needs, he feared too long of a lay-off would rust his movements. Or worse, his mind. He had performed the 138 forms everyday, to keep his body well conditioned, but only real battle could keep the mind sharp.

Fortunately, Nicolaos had been summoned to a meeting with Commander Haakon, and it seemed they would see action soon. The fortress of Beil was indeed a good challenge. It had never been conquered before. He wasn't very informed on the history of Nantii, but he doubted there had ever been anyone like Commander Haakon commanding the assault before. The mercenary group fitted Ishman's needs better, but Haakon was indeed a great general, who lead his soldier with efficiency. But eventually the war would be over, and Haakon's army would dissolve. Mercenary groups, on the other hand, always found work.

Ishman had been meditating by sitting on his knees with his hands on his thighs, when Nicolaos finally walked out. He waited until the Captain walked past him, and heard him talk.

"Let's go." The words Ishman had been waiting for. He rose up and turned to follow the Captain.

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