PDA

View Full Version : Karael: Under Fire



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.

-
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'

Sigma
05-13-2010, 03:14 PM
Pretty good Prequel you got here. can't wait to see more!

L
05-13-2010, 03:36 PM
Thanks :)

If Under Fire proves popular, I may do some more prequels - I'd probably do Grimnock next

L
06-01-2010, 04:18 PM
Chapter 2

It was growing increasingly dark as the sun set over the trees on top of Shian Valley. Jorgen strode through the mass of tents and relaxing warriors towards his own unit's camp. Fires had already been lit and the smell of cooking meat wafted thick through the air. The Jager commander was still fuming over his meeting with the "King" and the few people that were in the stone man's way quickly scurried away from the anrgy commander.
As he approached his men he was confronted with a worrying scene. The remaining men at his command – some hundred or so – surrounding a central campfire. And at the heart of the gathering, an outspoken Jager by the name of Trent.
Even this far away from Trent, Jorgen could hear the Jager clearly as he bellowed to the unit. Soldiers sitting at the camps surrounding Jorgen's listened intently, though shied away as Jorgen himself walked past.

'Look at us! We were once strong,' Trent threw his sword in to the fire and the sparks it emitted gave a dramatic pause in the still dusk, 'We were thousands strong, and now we are but a few hundred... if that'

A few Jager mumbled in agreement and stirred restlessly.

'Jorgen Grakel was a good Commander. WAS. He has led us to victory, but this assignment. Defeat and Death is all we have seen and still the Commander refuses to listen to reason! We must abandon this contract. Who cares about the money if we are not alive to use it!'

The mumbling and stirring had increased now, some of the Jager voicing their agreement more vocally. One outspoken Jager raised his sword and yelled 'CHALLENGE!' Jorgen now reached the first of his unit and began to push his way through the crowd.

Trent merely shook his head.

'That is not the way comrades. Though we can not continue down this path. Jorgen must be made to see reason. Must be made to-'

Jorgen muscled through the last of his troops to stand toe to toe with Trent. 'Must be made to WHAT Trent?'

The younger Jager shied slightly at the appearance of his Commander. Though the encouragement he was now receiving from his fellow troops steeled him and Trent raised himself back to his full height.

'Commander Grakel – we need to abandon this useless contract. That upstart with the crown should not be allowed to send us to our deaths for a few gold coins. How many more of us need die?'

More Jager raised their voices now and to the point of drowning out the confrontation of the 2 Jager. Soldiers from the surrounding camps had joined the back ranks and listened intently to the confrontation.

Jorgen turned to his back on Trent and faced his command. He suddenly felt very weary and knew his news would only fuel the fire.

'The King has commanded us. We are to assault Shian Valley and capture it in preparation for the main assault,' he paused, already bracing for the storm, 'we will have no support on this mission'

Jorgen's expectation to the reaction to his news was a gross miscalculation as the entire hundred Jager suddenly burst in to full voice of rage. Some drew swords, others just yelled incoherently in rage. When Jorgen turned back to Trent, he was saw a sword – bright red from extreme heat and still sparking – pointed at his head.

'And you accepted this mission? SEE MY FELLOWS. Our Commander is no longer fit to command. He sends us to our deaths!'

The speech was lost on the enraged stone men, but one word had propped up, and soon the entire unit spoke as one. 'CHALLENGE'

Jorgen shook his head.

'I still command – we will conduct ourselves with honor. We have signed a contract and must obey it.'

He was shouted down by the unit though, who still chanted the one word.

When Trent drew a line in the sand with the now cooling sword, signifying a challenge, a cheer went up from the group and they automatically pushed backwards, making space for the 2 large stone men. Trent started the ritual.

'Commander Jorgen. Your leadership is in question. You have willfully caused the deaths of Jager unnecessarily. Your decisions are questionable. I hereby challenge your right to lead this unit'

When Trent had finished the challenge, a Jager stepped forward.
Old and haggard with various scars on his body, he was clearly a veteran of the unit. The Jager quieted.

'I act as Judge and oversee this Challenge. Will you accept this challenge on your leadership Jorgen Grakel?'

Jorgen sighed, his shoulders slumping. He drew his sword and drew a line in the dirt in front of Trent's line.

'I accept'

'Then there shall be battle. The victor shall lead this unit until his death'

Around him the unit, quiet during the official challenge rite, spoke in unison. 'We are bound'
The old veteran strode to the 2 warriors and placed a hand on each of the swords.

'Honor shall guide you'

When the old Jager had stepped back, Trent wasted no time, bring his sword up in an overhead swing, bringing down with his full weight. Only Jorgen's quick reflexes allowed him to get his own sword up in time to parry the attack.

Each man stepped back and began to circle each other, swords pointed toward the ground, before Jorgen struck, stabbing at the other warrior quickly – only to have Trent parry the attack.

For minutes the 2 circled and probed the other's defenses with a mix of lightening quick jabs and massive swings. Probing for a weakness.

Then, with no obvious warning, both Jager struck in a flurry of attacks and the ring of steel on steel in rapid succession could be heard in camps far away. Jorgen and Trent attacked each other ferociously, neither finding a way past the other's defense.

Trent scored the first full hit – a hard hit on the Commander's left arm, but leaving his defense open to a strike from Jorgen on his own arm.

The Unit surrounding them was deathly quiet, so engrossed were they in the battle unfolding before them. All that could be heard was the constant ringing of sword on sword and the crackle of the fire in the center of the storm of battle.

And as quickly as the flurry of combat started, it was over. A single misstep from Trent, and heavy blow on the challenger's chest and Trent fell backwards, landing solidly on the fire, instantly dousing the flames and invoking a cry from the fallen Jager. Jorgen, however, took no chances. No sooner had his enemy fallen than Jorgen was on him, the hilt of his sword smashing in to the fallen man's temple with enough force to kill a human – but only dazed Trent slightly.

The Judge stepped forward quickly, placing a hand on Jorgen's sword before he could attack again. He spoke loud enough for the entire unit to hear.

'It is over – Jorgen Grakel is still Commander and we follow!'

Jorgen rose to his full height, looking around at his unit. Many averted their eyes, not able to look their Commander in the eye. When he reached down to help Trent up, the younger Jager merely snarled and slapped the hand away.

Rising himself, Trent merely turned his back and walked away.

'You'll kill us all Grakel – our blood is on your hands'

L
06-06-2010, 05:49 AM
Chapter 3

The previous night had been hectic. After the challenge for Jorgen's leadership, word of the fight and Jorgen's victory had spread through the Army like wild-fire. Even King Halderon had received word of the challenge, though at the time the senile man was more interested in the whore who had been under his sheets.

The story of the battle was repeated ad nauseam and, as legends do, grew more wild with each telling. In one camp Jorgen had killed Trent with one quick blow and then proceeded to use to a mighty hammer to smash the traitor in to dust – which now resided in a pouch on Jorgen's belt as a symbol to those that challenged him. The fact Trent was still alive didn't seem to concern those that chose to believe that particular re-telling.

Jorgen himself had left his command straight after the battle and returned to his tent for the night. He was downtrodden and for the first time in his military history, fell asleep doubting his decision not to let Trent defeat him.

-

The sun was rising on the still morning and most of the soldiers were only beginning to stir from sleep. Dew still adorned most of the trees in the area, but there was an obvious lack of sound - aside from the rumblings of the army. Not even the birds raised their voices this morning.

It was the shouting from Petran, the veteran whom had overseen last night's challenge, that roused Jorgen from his sleep. At first he thought he was still dreaming. The fight had dominated his dreams that night. But after a while he realized that the shouting was coming from out side his tent and not from his own head.

Rousing himself, Jorgen gripped his sword and held in front of him as he rushed out of the tent, prepared for battle. What confronted him was not battle though. In fact, Jorgen didn't quite understand what it was he saw.

Where last night hundreds of tents had stood and multiple fires burnt, now all Jorgen could see as the back drop of Shian Valley and dozens of Jager with packs strapped to their backs. Only a few tents of his unit were still standing and the stragglers exited their tents with Jorgen, prepared for combat.

'Commander Grakel!' As soon as Petran saw the emergence of the Commander he rushed up, pointing behind him at the form of Trent talking to another stone man. Trent also had his pack strapped to his back and he was gesturing at the mass of warriors behind him while talking. 'Trent spread the word last night that he's deserting. Now they're all leaving'

Jorgen sighed, wondering again if he'd made the right decision in not letting Trent defeat him.

Sword still in hand, Jorgen pushed past Petran and stormed up to Trent. The younger Jager merely ignored him. '... start setting up tents an hour before night fall, we'll need defenses in that part of the land. We'll -' Without warning Trent was on the ground and, as with the night before, Jorgen was on him without waiting for Trent to recover and attack. Jorgen stared him straight in the eyes, but kept his voice low enough that no-one could hear him.

'Traitor! I should kill you now' Jorgen struggled to maintain his composure, but Trent looked calm and collected, allowing his Commander to hold him pinned to the ground without a struggle.

'But you won't – Jorgen,' Trent stressed his ex-Commander's name so there was no misunderstanding, 'You won't, because you're weak and honorable. I didn't ask any of them to follow, I only said I was leaving. That they're following me is their choice'

Jorgen's shoulders slumped at that and he rose to his feet, leaving Trent on the ground, and turned his back.

'Leave then coward. You think I don't know that we are going to die in that attack. At least I'm prepared to do my duty and die a good death. So go, return home, and be branded a coward and traitor. See what warm welcome to you in the Alps!'

With that, Jorgen walked back to him tent without another word.

An hour later the camp was deserted bar a dozen remaining men. The last of the unit were now packed up and prepared for war. None of the soldiers from the rest of the army, also preparing for war now, dared approach the Jager Mercenary Unit. Jorgen's anger was not something anyone wanted to deal with, and the Commander had never been as furious as he was now. The King, who was to make a grand speech to the Jager unit about valor and sacrifice prudently put the speech off on the advice of one of his Generals for fear of his own safety.

Jorgen stood at the front of the last of his unit – 12 men, Petran included. Closing his eyes for a second, he wished – secretly – that he had Trent's strength to just walk away. When he opened his eyes, he set those doubts aside and looked at his unit.

'No speech – we all know we won't live to see tonight, but we'll do our duty and take as many of them with us as possible'

Jorgen turned and walked in to the deep and foreboding Shian Valley with his unit.