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kain222

The Drenai king is dead - murdered by a ruthless assassin. Enemy troops swarm into Drenai lands. Their orders are simple - Kill Every man, woman and child.

Little hope is granted, however. The smallest spark of hope can ignite a fire that will spread like passionate wildfire over men and woman's moral. You are a soldier of the Drenai army, and the situation is dire. The Vagir have pushed their way into the lands, and the Drenai are cornered.

However. There has been an opening. The Drenai are breaking free of the chokehold, slowly, but steadily. Tales of victory have spread, and the morale is greatly increased.

And there are rumours of a warrior, striding into the haunted lands of the Nadir to find the legendary Armour of the Bronze. Worn by the dead king's father, Orien, himself.

Perhaps, we will fight back. And perhaps, the Drenai will have their day.

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(( This is a RP based off the book "Waylander.", written by David Gemmal, i'll play the series of events from an actual standoff in the book, you looking through the eyes of a soldier instead of Waylander the Slayer.

From there, we will see what happens. But, for now... ))

The scene is set in an old, abandoned fort, there are only three good walls remaining, the fourth being stripped by the nearby villagers for foundations, the village is now abandoned, and the fort carries a ghostly aura of loneleyness with it.

The Fourth wall, however, is barricaded with caravans which were previously used to carry supplies. Your leader, Gellan, a rather far-off and mysterious leader, was forced here by rain when trying to transport a massive amount of supplies to Egel, who is currently stationed in Sulthik.

However, rain struck. Forcing you inside, Vagrians have been spotted. Even worse, they are five-hundred, whilst the force traveling with the caravans is a mere fifty men.

Even worse moreso, the Vagrians have been spotted as "Bloodhounds." The Vagrian's elite.

The odds are ten to one that they'll hold out, even for a mere two days, messages have been dispatched, calling for urgent support, but even the soldiers moral is dented. And the future onslaught by the Vagrians seems a grim thought.

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Name:
Gender (Normally, only men would be accepted in, but i'm going to allow this for the purpouse of freedom of plot.):
Descritpion:
Personality:
Weapons: (Shortsword/shield, longsword/shield, two-handed sword, one handed axe/shield, two-handed battleaxe.)
Additional Weapons(Throwing knives, knives for battle, A.K.A, the medival equivilant of a sidearm for backup whilst in a fight.):
Armour:
Position (Archerer, footman.):
History:
Age (No older than fourty-five, no younger than nineteen.):

Ranks are not availible for choice, due to the fact we're just meant to be ordinary soldiers.

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(( Additional notes: NO MAGIC! Allthough, in the book there are far-seers, sages and shamans, even they are grounded in reality and -very- rare.

And, regardless. This is meant to be a spin-off of the book through an -ORDINARY- soldier's view, and I want to keep it that way.

Try to make your characters seem -human-, make them get angry at things, sad at things. Show signs of weakness and for gods sakes, no god-emoting and wiping out fifty men in one blow. You're not super-man. Hell. Most of the forces are just farmers who have been commisioned. You -will- survive, but take some hits and only kill one to three men in a post.

That is all, have fun. ))

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Name: Dralist Kilick.
Gender: Male.
Descritpion: He is a tall man, long, brown hair matts his head, and rough stubble covers his chin. His eyes are a deep, hazel-brown and he seems heavily built, moving with a sence of purpouse. However, he seems rather common, most of the time. And a cracked, mischevious grin is mostly on his face at all times. He stands around six foot, and looks like a your grizzled, average soldier.
Personality: Rather common, joking, happy and hearty, odd for a man in his position, however. A glint of utter emotional weakness shows in his eyes at times.
Weapons: Longsword and a shield, the steel of the blade is a dull grey, and the shield is made from battered wood with a silver rim.
Additional weapons: A small knife strapped to his belt,
Armour: He tends to wear a barbaric, horned helm that encases the wearer's head in a hood-like chain, exposing the face, but gaining protection from the neck, and sides. He wears a ringmail shirt for mobility, but there is a plate overshirt that protects the vital areas. He wears a steel, battle-kilt made out of plate welded to a ringmail surface, and ringmail leggings with light, steel boots.
Position (Archerer, footman.): Footman.
History: The man was your average farmer, untill he was commisioned to fight, since then - he has been in a few battles, but nothing could prepare him for what is happening next...
Age: 21.

His father, when Dralist was eighteen, had met a grizzly end at the fate of roadside robbers, his mother had quickly grown ill with loss, and eventually it claimed her. Leaving the young boy to rear the farm into, suprisingly, a rather well-off one. He was absorbed into his work, though often popping to the tavern to drink with his friends, becoming, for the most part, atleast while he wasn't drunk, concealed to himself.

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Cybalt

Name: Markem Cross
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Description: A very young man, no more than twenty years of age. Short light brown hair and blue eyes. Average height.
Personality: Loud, honest, and slightly aggressive, it seems like he needs to prove himself. Always looking forward.
Weapons: Axe and shield (often keeps the shield on his back while he wields the axe in both hands).
Additional Weapons: A concealed boot knife.
Armor: He wears a chain mail shirt, steel bracers and boots. He relies on maneuverability.
Position: Footman
History: Markem's father was a noble of one of the outer Drenai lands. It was one of the first to fall under attack. As soon as his father leaned of the incoming troops, he sent his son and wife away, and saw to the defenses. After falling back to the last safe Drenai lands, Markem decided to join the Drenai army in hopes of helping defend his home, and perhaps even finding out if his father is alive or not.

((That better?))

King_Blind&Deaf

Name: Gabriel Lapping
Gender: Male
Description: 6'1, Black hair, Brown eyes, Doesn't look powerful or weak, weighing at about 200 pounds
Personality: Sarcastic, Wavering (Cowardly most the time but Brave at others), spiteful (You hit him he hits you back harder), a lot of wit
Weapons: a Basic Long Bow with 20 arrows
Additional Weapons: One knife (for melee)
Armour:basic farmer shirt, pants, and boots. Sadly the most protective thing he has is a quiver witch he uses to store his arrows
Position: Archer
Age:29 (You forgot to add age in)
History: Gabriel was born and raised a farmer. Before the war he held the bow six's times and he was horrible shot, in fact the first time he went hunting he by mistake shot his father in the ***. Gabriel was a happily married man when the war came around Gabriel was drafted into the army in witch he had to bring his own weapon and leave his wife witch he reluctant to.


(Hope this is okay just tried make him the most basic and normal as he could be)

kain222

(( Sorry, could you boost your age to 19? Forgot the age and the rules that come with it, 19's the minimum, 45's the maximum, idealy the army wouldn't want anyone younger than 19, right? ))

(( That's fine, but if you're not reffering to a actual "Witch" (A.K.A, witch hat, long nose, hubble bubble toil and trouble, couldrin-stirring, ect, it's spelt "Which." ))

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aquagirl7

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King_Blind&Deaf

(Dude thanks i just realized that's how iv always been spelling it D: guess I need to think more that it's which.)

kain222

(( Hey, no problem. Right, one more person signs up, and we can start. ))

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squall89

Name: Karth Mateo
Gender: Male
Description: 5'7, slightly tannged, dark hair, dark eyes
Personality: Somewhat cowardly in a fight, but does tries his hardest to find the confidence, attempts at keeping a posotive attitude at any situation, helpful towards others.
Weapons: shortword
Additional Weapons: Dagger
Armour: A farmer shirt with a chain mail over him, farmer pants and shoes
Position: Footman
History: Ever since Karth could walk, it seemed that he was destined to be a farmer, just like his father, and his father's father.. and so on...Him and his family had lived in peace for many years and payed no mind to war at hand... until at the age of 14.. Vagir troops had come to ransack the farm... Karth and his mother hid, but his father attempted to fend them off..only to getting himself killed...After the incident.. Karth and his mother took what they had left and wandered off until they found a nearby village where they were welcomed and treated... Karth had lived there up until he was 19.. at that point.. he had been unwillingly commisioned to join the war.....


Age: 23

kain222

(( Right, off we go! ))

Dralist frowned. Peering out over the battlements of the unused fort, rain was heavily pit-pattering downwards, tumbling from the sky. Within sight, just over the crest of the next hill, sat the Vagrian forces. Tents pinned up, some had warm lights coming from them.

It was odd, for the rain was hitting particularly hard, but even with the deafaning thunder, the fort seemed deathly quiet. Dralist frowned.

"... We have a day. That is, if the rain clears up. Them Charging now would be suicidal in this weather..." He sighed, in aggrivation. "Then they'll swarm in like angry wasps and kill us all with their stingers of steel."

Dralist seemed rather world-weary, heavy rings building under his eyes. "It will be a mircale if we even survive the initial charge..." He murmered, rain trickling down his forehead. Tears mixed with them, but he hid it well. The rain was one of the few shelters under which he could cry. And hell, now was a time to cry as any. His face had remained emotionless, however. The tears mereley dripping onto the cold, forbidding stone.

He peered downwards, realising that he as mereley talking to himself, he sighed in aggrivation.

Was he going crazy?

Who knows.

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Cybalt

Markem sat under his tent, sharpening his axe with his whetstone with slow swipes. He had been sharpening it for hours now, and three other soldiers already said that if he sharpened any more there would be no more axe. But it was far better to do something to keep his mind from wandering...

He couldn't help but run though all the possible scenarios. How would he die? Get shot with an arrow? Perhaps a quick chop to the head? Or a blow to the stomach, and be left to die on the battleground, trampled by friend and foe? Was it better to be on the front lines, and get it over with? Or be a few rows back and have a slight chance of survival?

...the whetstone slipped from his grasp, and the blade bit into his palm. Markem tried to stifle a cry of pain, but all me managed to do was slightly muffle it. Another soldier approached, investigating the cry. He looked at the scene sighed.

"I told you! Now look what you did." the soldier scoffed.
"Save your remarks for the Vag." snapped Markem. The soldier shook his head and turned to leave, but Markem shouted after him. "Get me a bandage while you're at it!"

Markem wiped a pain induced tear from his eye as he examined his bloodied hand. All his questions, he came to realize, where meaningless. What would happen would happen. And the only thing he could do that would have any impact on the rest of the world would be to kill as many of them as he could.
The soldier returned with a bandage, and gave it to Mark.

"Thanks" Mark said after taking it. "So what's your name?"
"David." said the soldier.
"I'm Mark. So David, what say you to a drink. If we survive this terrible ordeal?"
"That's a mighty big if, Mark"
"Yes. But, I see no reason to count ourselves dead yet..."
David eyed Mark suspiciously. This was Mark's first time to try to improve morale, and he could already see that his father was far better at it.
"Why do you think that, Mark?"
"Because there is one thing that is far better than any Vag toop. And that is a man with nothing to lose. And that my friend David, is exactly what we are. Men with nothing to lose. And we will fight untill our flesh is hacked from our bones."

((PS: David is not another character, just someone to have dialogue with for that scene. Oh and tell me is the whole flesh from bones thing is too graphic. Dunno the rules about that yet. I also have never read the books, so I dunno what the Vag soldiers look like.))