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Breaker of Shields; Magnus Dev; Dera'Zahad
Topic Started: Oct 17 2013, 09:47 PM (375 Views)
Volksgeist
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The scent of thick spices invaded Magnus's nostrils as he strolled down the lopsided streets of Dera'Zahad. His armor glinting in the sun, he could almost feel the eyes of the locals fall upon him. As he passed, merchants laid their speeches to rest, minstrels and musicians stopped the strumming of harps and beating of drums - even the street-sorcerers and magicians cut their magics and stared. Of course, it was not as if they would miss him anyway - Magnus was a hulk of a man - but his presence was announced even further when one compared him to the locals, in which case Magnus was essentially a giant.

Still, the eyes were nothing to be bothered by, and instead his mind took to wandering. "Dera'Zahad," otherwise known as the "Shield Coast," was believed to be the final resting place of a once-great mage - the same mage who taught the first sorcerer king magics. It was believed in local lore that the Shield Coast was once partially submerged by the waters of the Sea of Wraiths and that the dead had ran rampant above the waters. Tales told of children being whisked away on the winds or of babes being plucked from their mothers' breasts by the fog, never to be seen again. But then the mage had come and, there, he had used his mighty magics in his teachings and removed the waters and repelled the wraiths, shielding the rest of the Baan Peninsula from their invasion. When the first sorcerer king had seen this, he had been left in awe, and so he had ordered the city of Dera'Zahad be made as an homage to his mentor.

Now, it was a cesspool. Teaming with beggars and street urchins, it was a hotbed for conflict. Not a day went by where someone cheated someone else or where desert bandits stole away with riches or wenches from a noble's brothel. It was this that had led Magnus to Dera'Zahad. It was this that had led him to the grayish coast of the Sea of Wraiths, where the fog seemed to roll perpetually and even the cool sea air did nothing to abate the desert heat.

Suddenly, he caught sight of some shadows - a number of men moving toward him from his peripherals. One of them, a strange case in that he was almost as large as Magnus, stood in front of the mercenary and stopped. The other two flanked Magnus's sides. The large one spoke:

"Your kind isn't welcome here. The Sorcerer King will do away with all of you, and, if he doesn't, I will." The hocked and spat onto Magnus's armor, a sly smile smirking across his face. Magnus knew that in Dera'Zahad, it was illegal for refugees to take up arms against the locals, but, there were always those cases...
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Flynn The Rambler
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I Get things Done, by being Big and being Bad.
Magnus stared at the man, unflinching. He couldnt feel the spit on his armor, yet he knew it was there sliding down and backing a spot onto his armor. He didnt like that. He held onto his helm under his arm, and looked over the three men. He let out a sigh as he thought about what to do with the idiots who thought that they could disrespect him in such a way. Fools, was the only word to really come to mind.
"Of all the men, that aren't from around this sand pit, you come to me? Hummm... You come up to the man, who wears heavy armor, is clearly well armed, and has killed enough men that he wouldn't even blink at the thought of killing someone like yourself? Interesting. There are only two reasons this could be, the first being... you are fools, ready to pounce on anything you could with out thinking about it, feeling that a few extra bodies would be enough to take down the aging beast, sure they might die, but hey friends are easy to come by when the talk of loot is involved. Besides those that die leave more for you, right big guy?"

He paused just a moment, shifting his stance slightly so that his weight was on his back foot, if he need defend himself, his hand now held the lip of his helm, ready to make use of it as a club in a moments notice. His eyes went to reading the men, fools sure, but they were not with out use. He spoke after the pause.
"Or the second reason, you are looking to prove your worth. Perhaps there is someone bigger than you breathing down your neck and you need to show this person that you aren't anyone one to mess with, after all times are hard here and food is harder to come buy. Sure it might be hard work and you might have to do bad things, but you need to live and eat right? We all have friends and family we need to take care of! This forigner in his armor would be a great catch, he looks a little bit old and his armor looks like it would see for quite the lump sum! Besides he is bold enough to wear a White
Royal right around his neck! How hard could it be... yes, one of those to reasons, but I dont think you would be the fool type.. No, I think something else."


He paused another moment to get a read on those around him, he spoke loud enough that others would be looking by now, that could be good or bad for him. It could also be good or bad for them, and they would know that too, nobody likes a scene after all. He spoke again, continuing his friendly tone. He gripped his helm tighter, ready to break a nose or two before he let WellWorn out for some fun.

"Well, let me bring up another choice. You are hungry and in need of work, your strong men who know your way around the place and know where problems are and where people would pay for muscle. Yet you dont have the training or the experience in how to start in such a feild. I do. I have lead men for a long time, I have fought on sands, and swamps, killed in every land I have walked in. I know how to teach men to fight, I know how to make a man more useful than he currently is, and most importantly, I know how to make that man rich in the process. Thoughts... friend?"

He smiled and held out a hand to the man bold enough to spit on him, the gauntlet was open for a shake, yet it was poised to back hand him with a hard metal thud if things turned sour. He smiled and looked him in the eyes, reading what this man was worth. Spit was easy to clean, blood was not. He had spilled enough to know when someone had fight in him. He just didnt have the person to guide him to greatness. It was that or the Ax at this point.
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Volksgeist
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For a moment, the antagonist that Magnus had run into seemed to be pondering the words, but then, with a furtive glance toward his compatriots, a second toward the crowd, and a moment of thought, the man's face contorted and he gave Magnus a hard shove backward, spewing as he did so: "A refugee like you has the balls to talk to a local, a pure-blood of Baan like me, like that?! You are unwanted here, unwelcome. You come into our homelands and bring behind you a swathe of death - a plague of beastly creatures led by a strange god. Moreover, you come to our lands and you demand resources where there are few, shelter where cities are already crowded, and equal treatment where all you have to offer is your hand against the plight you brought here. And, now, you think you have the right to attempt to sway me? To attempt to turn me against my people?"

The crowd was silent. The other men were silent. The man speaking grunted and reached a hand out. On cue, a child ran from the sideline and, with difficulty, handed the man what seemed to be a heavy, curved blade.

"Now. I will give you five seconds to recant what you have just spoken and beg for forgiveness. If not, then I will lop your head off in front of everyone and send it to the Sorcerer King as a gift of my fealty." His face was now a complete aspect of rage. The heavy, earmarked blade in his hands hung loosely in his grip. The tension could be felt all around. It was Magnus's call.
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Flynn The Rambler
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Magnus shook his head and laughed. The shove had barely moved him as he was braced for such a thing. He looked at the man with pity and gave him a soft smile. "I never could have a child bare my blade, it taints them when they are so young, it makes them fear it. The weight that it is seen carrying... but thats not the point here, is it?" He shook his head again and laughed.

He then locked eyes with the man up front of him, he was cool and somber with a soft smile. "The dealings of gods and monsters was always beyond me, as was the dealings of land and kings. I am a mercenary, my job was to protect land, people, goods, whatever at whatever cost. I dont care to take what little you admit you have. I come here to work for what I eat, I always have and always will. You act like I am here to sway you away from your people, but I am here to Work For your people! What good is a man like myself with out work?! That is the question here, and I have no interest in playing your little game. We both know that is not allowed by your peoples law for me to defend myself, yet you act like your defending your people here. We all know that your defending your own honor and acting like its for the people that currently watch. Because if you were defending your land, you would be doing exactly what I plan on doing now! Finding those that acre actively causing harm, not just someone walking in the street."
He watched and waited for the mans response. He was sat in a guarded position, yet he never touched his weapon. He figured the crowed my have more sense than the man standing before him. He knew the fool was only looking for a fight, he wasnt going to kill him so easily, big men are better to work with, than against. [/color]
Edited by Flynn The Rambler, Oct 21 2013, 03:17 AM.
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Volksgeist
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The man seemed flustered for a moment but, instead of speaking, he raised his blade high and brought it down in a vicious slash. Magnus was too quick, though, even in his older age, and managed to swipe to the side and have the blow glance off of his heavy armor. Things weren't going to get any better though as, while the man was bring his blade around for another slash, his two accomplices produced a shivs and leapt toward Magnus.

It was three-on-one and the crowd was just staring.
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Flynn The Rambler
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Magnus didnt laugh, didnt shake his head, didnt do some kind of out of place motion. He wasnt a show off, he was a fighter. To be more accurate, he was a killer. He killed for a living and he was about to let it show. His helm that had been clinched tight this whole time, was finally set free. His arm snapped out like a snake striking, it brought the heavy metal helm into to the face of one of the would be shiv heros of this desert wonderland. WellWorn screamed on his side, demanding blood be spilled. Yet that was not the game here, he let the beast of an ax free, but only used the back end of it. The metal rod that held the whole thing together was more than enough to instill some respect. The shives were quick and fast, god for jabs... yet he wore plate mail so he wasnt too worried about the pare lest they went for his face. The leader of the bunch was slower than he though he would be. He took a breath and the plan went though his head.

He drug his foot back after hitting the closet shiv "master" with his helm, he would then take WellWorn's haft and bring it down on the back of the big man before he could turn, then side stepping from the still standing shiv man, using the big mans body as a "shield" from the faster moving opponent, he would then take the haft of the hungry ax onto the back of the big mans knee. He would then stand with the ax in between him and the still standing shiv man and see if they still wanted to play the dance of death.
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Volksgeist
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Magnus's hand darted out and his helm made a dull clunk as it contacted directly with the forehead of one of the enemies wielding a shiv. Almost as a reflex, Magnus swung his foot. The man went sprawling backward, a bruise already forming on his skull, and his shiv went flying into the sand. The other man with a shiv took advantage of this moment and sank the blade in between some of the plates of the white armor. Magnus turned and caught the larger of the three with the haft of his axe as planned and the man let out a muffled grunt as all of the air was forced out of his lungs. Expertly, Magnus dodged another shiv strike and swung around the larger man to use him as a shield, landing a simultaneous strike at the back of the larger man's knees. However, this is where Magnus's plan broke.

The remaining enemy had gone into a frenzy and hadn't anticipated his large compatriot dropping down. There was the sound of a blade sinking deep into the flesh and a gasp from the onlooking crowd.

The remaining man had sank his shiv into the eye of the larger man, who was still for a moment. The body slumped onto the ground and gave a quick series of jerks, the very last movements of a body as death took it. The man looked bewildered at his compatriot, then to the other man on the ground, then the crowd, and then, finally, Magnus. He staggered backward, his hands clawing at the open air, and then, with a hard swallow, he managed to regain some of his composure, although the bewilderment did not leave his voice. Stretching out his hand, he pointed at Magnus and shouted:

"Death to this man! He- He has caused a brother of ours to fall! Citizens of Dera'Zahad, it is he who has slain our brother through his acts! I call for DEATH!"

There was silence still, but a voice far off in the crowd shouted in agreement. A chant began to rise, and it was a call for Magnus's blood.
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Flynn The Rambler
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Magnus shook his head in disbelief and looked at the fool with rage and disdain. The bastard not only shived him, but he then killed his own friend and thought he could get away with it. This was not acceptable and were it not given the large amount of "innocents" in the area, Magnus would have planted WellWorn deep with in his cowards skull. Yet this was a land full of angry people, and filled with refugees that just made matters worse. He paused for a moment as a bead of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and stained the dirt. He wondered if these people were always this way? He then took action. Not much a man for magic, yet he did know a few spells, and he decided he would bellow out from above the shouting with his own magic. Might make matters worse if these people find yet another reason to kill him, but he wouldnt allow himself to be accused to killing this man. He cast the spell and spoke to the people.

"Good people of Dera'Zahad! Hear me! This man who calls for my blood has sinned more than once this day! He and his companions have done nothing but insult the honor and hospitality of your kind. Assaulting a man whom had no quarrel with them, and then bringing arms against him! These men had gone out of there way to cause the trouble you see today, to play on your fears and to make you act out of hate and violence. This is not the way I have heard of the people of Dera'Zahad acting! This was a city build in honor, and the people should be honored by it! They should not try to strike down one man, simply because a group of fools tried to harm him, and They Killed one of there own as I tried to get away! What kind of people would defend a Kin slayer?! A man whom had killed his own friend out of foolishness and fear, then try to turn the good people onto me simply to hide his mistake?! If any more blood must be spilled upon the sand, it need be that of the fool who killed his own! This man does no one here honor! He spilt the blood of Kin! It was he who has made strong grievance against the people of Dera'Zahad! Not I! Will you all let this man go unpunished?! "

Magnus voice boomed and he spoke with the fury of a mad mater, he was always active and very vocal in his speeches, bringing the White Royals from defeat, to victory only on the wind of a few strong words. Magnus believed it was never who you fought that mattered, it was what motivated you to fight that counted. Every paid contract, he made more than the exchange of blood for coins, he made his men feel it was their duty, that they were fulfilling a purpose bigger than themselves. He believed that, and he made sure they did as well. Nothing but plague stopped them. Yet so long as Magnus drew breath he knew that the White Royals would march on soon.
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Volksgeist
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As the voices quieted while Magnus's boomed, there was a part int he crowd. A man emerged, a crescent shield in his left arm and a wide scimitar in his right. He was bald and heavily armored, a man who carried himself with honor. Immediately, Magnus felt his heart drop. He had seen such a man before. He was a general - a captain of the guard - for Dera'Zahad. In this sort of situation, he was not simply an enforcer - he could act as judge, jury, and executioner in the name of the Sorcerer King.

The man stood silently for a moment, sizing up the situation. Then he spoke, his voice muffled by his scarf:

"You may be a refugee, but you speak truth. This man is the one who slayed his brother in arms. For this, he shall be put to death - executed in public. However, the death is also your responsibility, as you had part in it, as well as the other man who is left alive. For these crimes, you will both also be imprisoned and executed along with the first. The public calls for blood - I will give it more than enough. Let this be a lesson to locals and refugees alike - the Sorcerer King decides who lives and who dies and when. The Sorcerer King alone decides what actions should be taken against those who commit crimes. The Sorcerer King is the one who should be honored in all actions tied to these things. For this, three die at the price of one."

Heavily-clad guards came marching from behind their leader, crescent shields on their arms as well. One of the original enemies of Magnus tried to run but the crowd blocked him. A guard grabbed him by the collar of his loose shirt, jerked him back, and viciously slammed his shield into the man's face. Some of the guards were approaching Magnus with ropes and chains in their hands...
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Flynn The Rambler
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Magnus let out a long sigh, in a single breath a man and restored justice and had brought death to him. What was he to do now? WellWorn called for his blood it wanted death, the anger in Magnus wanted to cleave the warped head from the bald mans shoulders. Heavily armored guards and a crowed that has found it's spine. He could fight, yet Magnus knew he could not quell a horde. With each step he saw the the warriors take he knew that his fate was being sealed with it. Could he escape this death? Would anyone free him from a crime he did not cause? Magnus knew not. He knew that no matter how innocent he was, they would kill him. Death would come to them first! He would not take this!

"Refugees! People bound by the shackles of this cruel set of laws hear me! We can not and should not stand for such a life! The world ends yet we worry about what some king has to say!? The dark god marches onto us and we sit here drinking the sands and eating what dirt that these people give us!? No more I say! My people are to strong to put up with such cruelty from an already broken peoples! Rally people and fight for your natural born rights!! Rally onto me and bring onto us your freedom! The world will end and I will not die as some slave! Nor should you!!"

With that the angers Magnus ended his voice expanding spell hoping those with a spine would fight. He then gave a shout, his Warcry booming from his body as he swung the hungry ax at the shoulders of the men who came to end his life. His body was ready and poised for counter attacks, he would spill blood and the ax would sing. The White Royal was white In name only.
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Volksgeist
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Magnus called in an attempt to rally the people around him but quickly found that no one would come to his aid. Perhaps there weren't many refugees around him or perhaps it was simply that they were far too afraid to put their lives on the line, but, either way, Magnus found himself standing alone after his call to arms. With a violent bellow, Magnus sent all of the locals save for the captain of the guard and his compatriots into a fearful frenzy - the marketfolk began to panic and scream and run and hide at the terrible sound. The guards, however, advanced angrily upon Magnus, but made the terrible mistake of attempting to take him without fighting him first.

Magnus's axe sang through the blistering heat and contacted just between two plates of a man's armor set on his shoulder. The sheer force behind Wellworn cleaved the man's entire right arm off and the man began to howl and scream in absolute terror as blood erupted from the stump and then settled into a heavy flow from the wound. The other guard leapt back out of range from another attack by Magnus and drew a heavy scimitar from his side, standing in a way that showed that, unlike the now-original assailant, he knew how to throw the weight around.

But this was the least of Magnus's problems. The Guard Captain was advancing and hand a hand stretched out. A whitish blue light was emanating from it and the man was chanting. Magnus could feel his head beginning to ache terribly, began to feel as his muscles were weakening in his body as if from atrophy. The man advanced on him incessantly and always chanting - and Magnus was growing weaker.
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Flynn The Rambler
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Blood and sand, blood and sand. This place seemed broken to Magnus, people didnt have the fight here that he liked, had to talk to keep himself out of trouble and had to fight to prove his innocence, now he had to fight for his freedom. He felt this whole situation was a quagmire. Yet he got himself here, one way or another and he would get himself out. He looked at the blood that spilled from the first guard, the way it stained WellWorn seemed... wrong, some how. He felt that this mans death was pointless, only margenaly more so was the man whom was killed by his own friend. He swung the ax back and forth to limber up. He knew the other guard could handle a fight. That really wasnt his first priority though.

Magnus looked over at the captain peering at him with a cold stare that seemed off in a place so hot. He furrowed his brow and grimaced as he felt what he believed to be some form of magic, trying to take hold of him. Magnus knew he couldnt let that happen, he would die if it did. There would be no trial for him now. WellWorn felt heavy for a moment as he thought, and he knew he had to act very quickly. Concentration was key to spells, Magnus knew that much. The old mercenary moved quickly, his white armor shone in the sun, spattered with blood. He side stepped the guard to move towards his captain, throwing himself forward with more speed than necessary, pushing his body to build up speed. He then used his weight to slide into the dirt, kicking up a cloud towards the captain. This slide and dive would look foolish to those watching, but the bust would be enough to choke a horse, and this man was chanting. As Magnus slid he aimed for between the Captains legs, WellWorn swung for the meat of the Captains thigh. It was a risky move but Magnus had to take it, break the concentration, or break the mage. He would like both.
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Volksgeist
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Magnus leapt to his feet and launched into action, only to find himself stumbling. Wellworn flew from his hand and clattered onto the stone and sand of the street. Magnus dove headfirst into the ground, his limbs numb as if frozen, his mind slowly beginning to blink in and out of comprehension. The man's chant seemed to be echoing now, though if it were off the buildings or just in his head he couldn't tell. Guards advanced on the white-armored mercenary and, though he longed to protest with both tongue and blade, Magnus could do nothing. His body was frozen now, petrified, all save his eyes. He felt their hands around his arm. He saw one of them lift his sword high. He felt the pommel on his head and all went black.

Musty... Musty was the word that came to mind as Magnus's vision came back to him, blurred and flawed as it was. To three of his sides there were roughly-hewn sandstone bricked walls. On the forth, there was a crude gate of bars that were heavily rusted and eaten away by sand. As he roused himself from his place on a thin layer of straw, Magnus noticed the absence of those things he called his own - no armor, no axe. He could hear some other lowly prisoner crying not-so-far off and another pleading openly that it was all a mistake and that he had had no part in some vague action.

Though he was weak, Magnus found himself able to stand. His faculties soon returned. What now?
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Flynn The Rambler
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I Get things Done, by being Big and being Bad.
Magnus shook his head and crawled about the floor. As if letting his limps sprawl out and bringing feeling back to his body, he sat there stooped over for a few moments, before he got back up and stood. Once standing he took deep breaths and thought over the fight. Was he going to die in this sand filled land. He shook his head and leaned against a wall. He felt it was doing more than he was right now. Bars... He hated bars. He walked close to them to see how strong they were. He had heard of breaking out of such places. He shook his head again as he thought over what happened. A place that caters violence against anyone that wasnt like them. If he got out he knew he would make people like that burn. They were useless. There was bigger problems about than worrying about where someone was from.
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