L
05-13-2010, 02:40 PM
Karael: Under Fire
This is a 'Beginnings' story for Karael: War Path (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=3932) and involves the creation of the Mercenary Unit, Burna' Boys.
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Chapter 1
15 years prior to the Varzi Invasion
The giant Jager known as Jorgen Grakel pulled aside the flap to the massive purple tent that was the center of the war camp. He squeezed his way through the tiny opening to be greeted by dozens of grown men and women of various races shouting at each other and the overwhelming stench of body odor – a draw back in all long campaigns. In a few small areas of the tent a number of fist fights had broken out, so intense were the discussions occurring.
The center of the war tent was the hub of most of the discussions however and 5 men – all dressed expensive golden armor – were the center of that attention. All 5 stood around a large mahogany table with a sprawled out map of the area the army was currently in. Their voices nearly drowned out the rest of the shouting that filled the tent.
Jorgen was not looking forward to the coming meeting. His small mercenary force, now reduced to a mere hundred – all Jager - from the five thousand he commanded at the start of the war, were tired, battered and desperate.
There was even talk amongst the remaining members of deserting from the current contract. Most of the Jager wanted to sacrifice the pay and leave the land-hungry kings to their petty little war. The sentiment was prevelant and even Jorgen himself had to admit to feelings of discontent. Though he'd never show uncertainty to his warriors, he desperately wanted to pack up and go home.
Instead, Jorgen had convinced the dejected unit in to waiting until after his meeting with the general leadership of the King’s army before coming to a decision.
Now seeing the chaos of the leadership tent, Jorgen understood that nothing good would come of the meeting – only the blood of his men.
Jorgen made his way through the crowd, using his massive 8 foot frame and powerful arms to elbow and push through anyone foolish enough not to remove themselves from his path.
Made entirely of stone, Jorgen had little trouble convincing the commanders of the army that it was in their best interest to move out of his way.
Jorgen reached the King’s table and stood silently as the old King, Far too senile now Jorgen thought, discussed rather heatedly about the excessive use of arrows and their lack of supply lines. After a number of minutes listening to the amateurish Generals discuss tactics... badly, Jorgen cleared his throat and placed a massive stone hand on the table, making the King snap his head around.
'Yes, Yes, What is it?'
'You asked to see me. . . my lord' Jorgen paused. He detested addressing King Halderon as my lord simply because he wasn’t Jorgen’s King. Jorgen was a simple mercenary and had no use for titles – only the money they offered.
Halderon looked at Jorgen for a second, uncomprehending. The human King was extremely old – nearing 100, and struggling to stand on his own too feet. He had short cropped hair that was pure white in which his crown, looking far too heavy for his frail head. Just as suddenly the King seemed to snap back in to focus and he shook his head.
'Yes, yes, so I did. You see Commander,' Halderon lowered his voice slightly so even those in close proximity had to strain to hear the conversation, 'I have a slight problem. My strategists tell me that we are capable of winning this war. . . IF we can take the Shian Valley without serious casualties. I’m sure you’ve seen the Valley yourself Commander and for the life of me I can’t think of how to take the valley while keeping enough of my forces fresh for the final strike on those Kilcare.' As he spoke the name, the King unceremoniously spat on the floor.
'Now I understand you’re force is in need of a rest'
'Yes My Lord, they. . .'
'BUT! I am going to have to insist that you honor your contract, which clearly states I can use your company in any attack I so desire'
Jorgen’s stone face burrowed – as much expression as the stone would allow. He thought he what was about to happen, though if he knew just how bad it was he would have laughed.
'Your unit needs to take the Shian Valley Commander, but I can’t spare any other unit but unfortunately, as one of my Generals has just informed me, I’ll be unable to provide you with any archer or siege support due to, ammunition restrictions. We require every arrow and boulder we can get our hands on to ensure we take the city.'
Jorgen's hand squeezed on the table, crushing part of the mahogany table in to sawdust, but aside from that the Mercenary Commander managed to retain his composure. He spoke in a low, flat voice.
'That's a suicide mission Halderon!'
'And unfortunately I must insist – your contract is very specific and as much as you don't wish to here this, your unit is expendable, my army is not. You WILL assault Shian Valley Commander or you will be labeled traitors and executed'
This is a 'Beginnings' story for Karael: War Path (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=3932) and involves the creation of the Mercenary Unit, Burna' Boys.
-
Chapter 1
15 years prior to the Varzi Invasion
The giant Jager known as Jorgen Grakel pulled aside the flap to the massive purple tent that was the center of the war camp. He squeezed his way through the tiny opening to be greeted by dozens of grown men and women of various races shouting at each other and the overwhelming stench of body odor – a draw back in all long campaigns. In a few small areas of the tent a number of fist fights had broken out, so intense were the discussions occurring.
The center of the war tent was the hub of most of the discussions however and 5 men – all dressed expensive golden armor – were the center of that attention. All 5 stood around a large mahogany table with a sprawled out map of the area the army was currently in. Their voices nearly drowned out the rest of the shouting that filled the tent.
Jorgen was not looking forward to the coming meeting. His small mercenary force, now reduced to a mere hundred – all Jager - from the five thousand he commanded at the start of the war, were tired, battered and desperate.
There was even talk amongst the remaining members of deserting from the current contract. Most of the Jager wanted to sacrifice the pay and leave the land-hungry kings to their petty little war. The sentiment was prevelant and even Jorgen himself had to admit to feelings of discontent. Though he'd never show uncertainty to his warriors, he desperately wanted to pack up and go home.
Instead, Jorgen had convinced the dejected unit in to waiting until after his meeting with the general leadership of the King’s army before coming to a decision.
Now seeing the chaos of the leadership tent, Jorgen understood that nothing good would come of the meeting – only the blood of his men.
Jorgen made his way through the crowd, using his massive 8 foot frame and powerful arms to elbow and push through anyone foolish enough not to remove themselves from his path.
Made entirely of stone, Jorgen had little trouble convincing the commanders of the army that it was in their best interest to move out of his way.
Jorgen reached the King’s table and stood silently as the old King, Far too senile now Jorgen thought, discussed rather heatedly about the excessive use of arrows and their lack of supply lines. After a number of minutes listening to the amateurish Generals discuss tactics... badly, Jorgen cleared his throat and placed a massive stone hand on the table, making the King snap his head around.
'Yes, Yes, What is it?'
'You asked to see me. . . my lord' Jorgen paused. He detested addressing King Halderon as my lord simply because he wasn’t Jorgen’s King. Jorgen was a simple mercenary and had no use for titles – only the money they offered.
Halderon looked at Jorgen for a second, uncomprehending. The human King was extremely old – nearing 100, and struggling to stand on his own too feet. He had short cropped hair that was pure white in which his crown, looking far too heavy for his frail head. Just as suddenly the King seemed to snap back in to focus and he shook his head.
'Yes, yes, so I did. You see Commander,' Halderon lowered his voice slightly so even those in close proximity had to strain to hear the conversation, 'I have a slight problem. My strategists tell me that we are capable of winning this war. . . IF we can take the Shian Valley without serious casualties. I’m sure you’ve seen the Valley yourself Commander and for the life of me I can’t think of how to take the valley while keeping enough of my forces fresh for the final strike on those Kilcare.' As he spoke the name, the King unceremoniously spat on the floor.
'Now I understand you’re force is in need of a rest'
'Yes My Lord, they. . .'
'BUT! I am going to have to insist that you honor your contract, which clearly states I can use your company in any attack I so desire'
Jorgen’s stone face burrowed – as much expression as the stone would allow. He thought he what was about to happen, though if he knew just how bad it was he would have laughed.
'Your unit needs to take the Shian Valley Commander, but I can’t spare any other unit but unfortunately, as one of my Generals has just informed me, I’ll be unable to provide you with any archer or siege support due to, ammunition restrictions. We require every arrow and boulder we can get our hands on to ensure we take the city.'
Jorgen's hand squeezed on the table, crushing part of the mahogany table in to sawdust, but aside from that the Mercenary Commander managed to retain his composure. He spoke in a low, flat voice.
'That's a suicide mission Halderon!'
'And unfortunately I must insist – your contract is very specific and as much as you don't wish to here this, your unit is expendable, my army is not. You WILL assault Shian Valley Commander or you will be labeled traitors and executed'