01: Kallag
StormEagle
Well-known member
????
Screams and cries resound across the valley, the clash of arms and shields echoing off the hillsides.
He sits on a large rock, observing the battle from a nearby hilltop. Long, dark hair shifts with the breeze, as black eyes take in the battle below. He was a powerfully built man, tall, and swarthy skinned, though not so dark as to be confused with the men of the kingdoms in the far distant south. A simple crown of iron, with a single jewel in its center sits upon his head.
Around him were men of a different breed. Swarthy and dark haired, yes, but also squat and malformed, while others were taller than him and fairer skinned with hair the color of straw or fire. All watched the battle in grim silence.
His troops clashed with men garbed in steel armor and crimson cloth, a proud eagle topped banner being carried behind their lines. The men sworn to him were far more simply garbed, with leather and sometimes crude chain to guard them. Some ran against the shield line naked, blue paint streamed down their faces as they yelled their last battle cry.
"So the time comes at last." An old man says, as he steps beside the dark haired man. His hair was white, and wrinkles ran through his face like rivers and creeks through the earth.
"Aye. No victory to be had here, now they've cornered us. Only death." The larger man states bitterly, as he rises from the seat and walks away. The horses, for he needed multiple to pull the chariot, snorted at his approach.
"There is still yet time, king. You need not die here, charging into a hopeless battle. Retreat from this place, and we can fight again another day." The older man says, his tone soft and low so the surrounding men could not hear.
The man laughs, a deep sound that startles the men around him and diverts their attention from the battlefield. They stare at their king in wonder, thinking 'how can he make such a sound when our doom is at hand?'
"Who would follow me if I fled from this place, wizard? What man would follow a leader that, in the face of battle, fled and abandoned his own countrymen and allies to death? No. There is no escape here. Only the red song of battle, and death on foreign blades. This day we die, and our war comes to an end at last." The king says, a bitter smile upon his lips as the men around him look to their companions in doubt.
The king laughs again, the men jumped again in surprise, and mounted his chariot, drew his sword and lifted it high into the air so it gleams in the noonday sun.
"Today is to be our end! Aye, that is true! The final end, the final death of our people as well, as we fade into the mists of time and new men take these lands. This is not in doubt." his voice going from towering yell to morose near whisper at the end. Tears gather in his eyes, as well as the eyes of the swarthy men around him. The men with yellow and red hair shift, pity moving their hearts. This would likely mean the end of their tribes, their people would continue either independent or under imperial heel. Their allies were not so lucky.
"Yes. An end to our people. A people that have been here since ancient times. Before, Atlantis sunk into the sea. But..." He trailed off as he glared off across the heather covered fields, the purple plant swayed with the wind as this ancient land was soaked in blood.
"I would have it be such an end, that in our death, we will not be forgotten. We will meet a red end, soaked in the blood of our enemies as we throw them back beyond the wall one final time! Let them not say we went away whimpering, but that we howled like wolves and madmen as we died! Let us extract such a toll from them, they will curse this day for generations to come!" The king yelled, and his black eyes shined with a fierce wrath and hatred.
The squat men around him roared and howled their approval, while the tall men looked on in grim silence.
He did not wait. He had no more words to say this day, and there was no point in hesitating. The men would follow behind. He lifted his sword once more, and pointed forward. His charioteers snapped the reigns, and the horses whinnied as they entered into a trot. As the chariot sped down the hillside at last to join the battle, he shouted one more word.
"Charge!"
====
245 AC, The Mountains of the Moon.
He snaps awake, his head pounding like a drum. He groans, trying to keep himself quiet enough so that he doesn't disturb his mother and brothers, as he rolls out of bed.
He is a young man, no facial hair yet appearing on his smooth face, with black hair and eyes. His skin was dark, which he thought an oddity considering the fact that both his parents were rather pale, but he thought little on it.
Grasping through the little tent, which he shared with his mother and three elder brothers, in the darkness of predawn the young man eventually found what he was looking for. Clothes, made of deer hide and other such furs, along with a bow, quiver, and skinning knife.
He stepped out of the tent, his skin prickling in the cool morning air. It was dark out, but he could see the first touches of sunlight poking over the mountaintops as he got dressed.
"What are you doing Kallag?" A voice asks behind him.
Kallag jumps slightly, and turns back to see one of his brothers sitting on a stump outside the tent.
'Dammit. Thought he'd be asleep as usual.' Kallag thought, silently cursing his brother for breaking his habit of sleeping while on watch.
"'bout to go on a hunt." Kallag says, lying through his teeth. He had been planning on making his way down to the nearby village that his family sometimes traded with. While many villagers didn't like his family, them being wildlings and all, they were content enough with their presence at this point to trade with them.
There was a girl there that he met up with by the name of Ava. Not that her father knew that, or Kallag would have likely been dead by now.
"By yourself?" Trodar, the youngest after him, asks an eyebrow going up in obvious disbelief.
"Aye. What of it? I'm old enough to hunt on my own." Kallag says defensively. He had planned on doing some hunting on the way back up the mountain. A few hares or pigeons would help feed them for a night at least.
"You know its not safe to do that now. Not with the clans in back in the area." Trodar says, obvious concern for Kallag's safety in his tone.
Kallag spat on the ground at the thought of the tribes. The Howlers and the Burned Men were in the are, alongside their old tribe, the Bone Splitters.
"Fuck 'em. I run across one, I'll shoot em in the eye."
"And if there's more than one?" Trodar asks, to which Kallag has no answer.
"Better if you wait till the others get up. One of us can stay with mother, and we can go on a hunt for the rest of the day." Trodar says, obviously trying to be placating.
Kallag:
[] Agrees. He can meet with Ava another day, maybe when the clans had moved on.
[] Disagrees. Trodar, while older, couldn't tell him what and what not to do. Only Urilf, the oldest and head of the family, had that right since their father had been killed.
[] Write-in
===
I will be amazed if anyone can guess this crossover before I have to spell it out. Hopefully the updates will get a little longer and detailed as I shake the rust off.
Hold any votes, I'm going to reserve some posts.
Screams and cries resound across the valley, the clash of arms and shields echoing off the hillsides.
He sits on a large rock, observing the battle from a nearby hilltop. Long, dark hair shifts with the breeze, as black eyes take in the battle below. He was a powerfully built man, tall, and swarthy skinned, though not so dark as to be confused with the men of the kingdoms in the far distant south. A simple crown of iron, with a single jewel in its center sits upon his head.
Around him were men of a different breed. Swarthy and dark haired, yes, but also squat and malformed, while others were taller than him and fairer skinned with hair the color of straw or fire. All watched the battle in grim silence.
His troops clashed with men garbed in steel armor and crimson cloth, a proud eagle topped banner being carried behind their lines. The men sworn to him were far more simply garbed, with leather and sometimes crude chain to guard them. Some ran against the shield line naked, blue paint streamed down their faces as they yelled their last battle cry.
"So the time comes at last." An old man says, as he steps beside the dark haired man. His hair was white, and wrinkles ran through his face like rivers and creeks through the earth.
"Aye. No victory to be had here, now they've cornered us. Only death." The larger man states bitterly, as he rises from the seat and walks away. The horses, for he needed multiple to pull the chariot, snorted at his approach.
"There is still yet time, king. You need not die here, charging into a hopeless battle. Retreat from this place, and we can fight again another day." The older man says, his tone soft and low so the surrounding men could not hear.
The man laughs, a deep sound that startles the men around him and diverts their attention from the battlefield. They stare at their king in wonder, thinking 'how can he make such a sound when our doom is at hand?'
"Who would follow me if I fled from this place, wizard? What man would follow a leader that, in the face of battle, fled and abandoned his own countrymen and allies to death? No. There is no escape here. Only the red song of battle, and death on foreign blades. This day we die, and our war comes to an end at last." The king says, a bitter smile upon his lips as the men around him look to their companions in doubt.
The king laughs again, the men jumped again in surprise, and mounted his chariot, drew his sword and lifted it high into the air so it gleams in the noonday sun.
"Today is to be our end! Aye, that is true! The final end, the final death of our people as well, as we fade into the mists of time and new men take these lands. This is not in doubt." his voice going from towering yell to morose near whisper at the end. Tears gather in his eyes, as well as the eyes of the swarthy men around him. The men with yellow and red hair shift, pity moving their hearts. This would likely mean the end of their tribes, their people would continue either independent or under imperial heel. Their allies were not so lucky.
"Yes. An end to our people. A people that have been here since ancient times. Before, Atlantis sunk into the sea. But..." He trailed off as he glared off across the heather covered fields, the purple plant swayed with the wind as this ancient land was soaked in blood.
"I would have it be such an end, that in our death, we will not be forgotten. We will meet a red end, soaked in the blood of our enemies as we throw them back beyond the wall one final time! Let them not say we went away whimpering, but that we howled like wolves and madmen as we died! Let us extract such a toll from them, they will curse this day for generations to come!" The king yelled, and his black eyes shined with a fierce wrath and hatred.
The squat men around him roared and howled their approval, while the tall men looked on in grim silence.
He did not wait. He had no more words to say this day, and there was no point in hesitating. The men would follow behind. He lifted his sword once more, and pointed forward. His charioteers snapped the reigns, and the horses whinnied as they entered into a trot. As the chariot sped down the hillside at last to join the battle, he shouted one more word.
"Charge!"
====
245 AC, The Mountains of the Moon.
He snaps awake, his head pounding like a drum. He groans, trying to keep himself quiet enough so that he doesn't disturb his mother and brothers, as he rolls out of bed.
He is a young man, no facial hair yet appearing on his smooth face, with black hair and eyes. His skin was dark, which he thought an oddity considering the fact that both his parents were rather pale, but he thought little on it.
Grasping through the little tent, which he shared with his mother and three elder brothers, in the darkness of predawn the young man eventually found what he was looking for. Clothes, made of deer hide and other such furs, along with a bow, quiver, and skinning knife.
He stepped out of the tent, his skin prickling in the cool morning air. It was dark out, but he could see the first touches of sunlight poking over the mountaintops as he got dressed.
"What are you doing Kallag?" A voice asks behind him.
Kallag jumps slightly, and turns back to see one of his brothers sitting on a stump outside the tent.
'Dammit. Thought he'd be asleep as usual.' Kallag thought, silently cursing his brother for breaking his habit of sleeping while on watch.
"'bout to go on a hunt." Kallag says, lying through his teeth. He had been planning on making his way down to the nearby village that his family sometimes traded with. While many villagers didn't like his family, them being wildlings and all, they were content enough with their presence at this point to trade with them.
There was a girl there that he met up with by the name of Ava. Not that her father knew that, or Kallag would have likely been dead by now.
"By yourself?" Trodar, the youngest after him, asks an eyebrow going up in obvious disbelief.
"Aye. What of it? I'm old enough to hunt on my own." Kallag says defensively. He had planned on doing some hunting on the way back up the mountain. A few hares or pigeons would help feed them for a night at least.
"You know its not safe to do that now. Not with the clans in back in the area." Trodar says, obvious concern for Kallag's safety in his tone.
Kallag spat on the ground at the thought of the tribes. The Howlers and the Burned Men were in the are, alongside their old tribe, the Bone Splitters.
"Fuck 'em. I run across one, I'll shoot em in the eye."
"And if there's more than one?" Trodar asks, to which Kallag has no answer.
"Better if you wait till the others get up. One of us can stay with mother, and we can go on a hunt for the rest of the day." Trodar says, obviously trying to be placating.
Kallag:
[] Agrees. He can meet with Ava another day, maybe when the clans had moved on.
[] Disagrees. Trodar, while older, couldn't tell him what and what not to do. Only Urilf, the oldest and head of the family, had that right since their father had been killed.
[] Write-in
===
I will be amazed if anyone can guess this crossover before I have to spell it out. Hopefully the updates will get a little longer and detailed as I shake the rust off.
Hold any votes, I'm going to reserve some posts.