The Antaean Confederacy (closed)

[Guest Foe Calibur]

Chapter 1 Image

[Guest Foe Calibur]

“Sir! Two more prisoners captured. What shall we do with them?” the soldier stood rigid at the entrance to the Conference tent set up for Lord Alexander and his commanders.

 

Alexander was a proud man; his intentions were good, though he was a little obstinate for his own good at times. His broad shoulders and knightly build stood testament to his earlier days as a soldier. He dressed in the finest of robes, draped over his massive battle armor; wide shoulder guards and a breast plate, linked by the finest of chain mail. Embossed in the center of his chest plate, the symbol of his rule, the Antaean confederation, was worn proudly.

 

“Deal with them as with the others.” The large Duke stood silent for a moment, “Hold!” Alexander turned his attention once more to the soldier at the entrance, “Bring one here… I’d have words with him…”

 

“Are you sure that is wise?” The voice was rasp and devoid of emotion, it emanated from a black-cloaked man standing across the table from Alexander, hands outstretched on a map. They were pale and old, nearly covered by his long sleeves; he reached up slowly to point a gnarled finger out the door to the billowing smoke on the horizon. It rose in shadowy pillars, obscuring the slowly fading sun.

 

“Sir! The prisoner, as you ordered!” The soldier escorted the ill fared man in as ordered by Alexander. The man, dressed in rough armor and black rags, did not raise his head when he was addressed by our Lord, instead he spat on the floor at his feet.

 

Alexander’s eyes glazed over as he raised his head from the saliva at his feet, “Imbecile! Do you not know at whom you spit?! Your life could be take ten fold for what you have just done!” Alexander’s rage was evident as he scuffed his boot over the rugged man’s insult, “Now you listen to me… you were taken captive because of your former patron’s declarations. Now why did you come here? Why were you lurking in our forests?”

 

A low growl emerged from the man’s throat before he answered, ”You are the caussssse of thissss! You takessss our people assss prisonerssss when we have done nothingssss!” he said with spite, the voice had a snake like hiss to it.

 

“Enough! I’ll not listen to a raga bond soldier’s lies, I have better things to do.” Alexander motioned with his hand, “Take him away.” Turning back to the table, his gaze fixed upon the smoke on the horizon, Alexander sighed, “what do you think it’s from?” his eyes raised to meet his cowled friends gaze.

 

Midicus raised his head, eyes blazing with an omnipotent blaze, no flame or light erupted from his sockets, though magic was etched into his ancient fetures as he stared off into the distance. He spoke with a demonic tone, “The forests on the western fields are being torn down…” His gaze focused again as his spell casting ended, he once again turned to the map at his fingertips.

 

“They’re burning our lands, the blasphemous pigs!” Alexander’s prejudice was obvious as he slammed his fist on the table, “I’ll not allow these sacrilegious crimes to continue, it’s time we met them… with force!” he let his gaze wander as the remainder of his commanders and highest ranked soldiers walked in to the tent…

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon sighed softly as he saw the spreading mass of tents in front of him. Finally, after a long, hard ride from the central lands of the Confederacy, he and his force had reached Duke Alexander's main camp… and Gyrfalcon's meeting with his new superior. The half-elf half-turned in his seat to see the small column of his company leave the forest, and start down the short incline before the long clear stretch between the edge of the forest and the camp.

 

Smart… scouts can't get too close to the camp, and they can see someone coming early enough that the call to alarm can be made, should it come to that. Gyrfalcon thought, and a voice to his side broke his reverie. "Strange… they haven't come out to meet us yet. They *do* know we are coming, don't they?" Gyrfalcon turned and grinned at his second in command, and friend, Karl. "Considering how that big spear of yours reflects light, they *have* to know." Karl touched his naganata possessively, and grinned.

 

He has a point… the sentries should have challenged us by now. And they're swarming around down there… something has to be wrong. "Alright everyone, forward at a canter!" Gyrfalcon shouted, and heard the order repeated by lieutenants and sergeants. The column picked up speed and started down into the camp.

 

The column pounded past soldiers, hurriedly armoring themselves, making last minute repairs, and forming into units.

 

"Looks like we're just in time people… we're apparently going to war." Gyrfalcon called back to his company. Their faces were a range- eager, grim, happy, fear-tinged, and a few calm faces from those who had fought before and knew that nothing that exciting was happening yet.

 

Gyrfalcon himself was calm, the serenity of experience. The time for bloodletting would come later, for now, there was nothing to work himself up form. They continued forward to the center of the camp. Finally, just a few hundred feet from a massive tent that had to be General Alexander's, a major ordered them to halt. Gyrfalcon signaled, and the company complied. The major looked up at the dusty half-elf with suspicion in his blue eyes.

 

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you so dusty, and where are you going?" His voice was a nasal whine, and Gyrfalcon inwardly sighed. Damn military bureaucrats… there has to be one everywhere. And always, a place for every person, to be determined by this one…

 

"I am Gyrfalcon No'Dessu. *Captain* Gyrfalcon, I'm here to report to my superior, we are dusty because we just rode in, and I'm going to report to my superior." Gyrfalcon said, wearily.

 

"Well, I'll deliver your orders to your superior. Give me your orders then, then go and guard the message center. I have documents of great importance that simply must-" The major said, hand held out impatiently. Gyrfalcon cut him off.

 

"You aren't my superior officer, Major, and that is to whom I must deliver my orders. Furthermore, only my superior officer can order me to do anything." The major's face turned red, then purple.

 

"You insolent slug! I am giving you one chance- one! - before I have you arrested for disobeying a direct order, and I'll have you court-martialed, broken in rank, and thrown in the stockade, you disrespectful whelp!" He stopped to gather a breath.

 

"You try the court-martial, please. Tell me how it works out. Company, remain here, this won't take too long. Karl, come with me." Gyrfalcon heeled forward, and Karl followed, snickering as the major had to jump out of the way and landed on his seat.

 

They reined up at the entrance, and a pair of guards stiffened to attention, shifting their halberds to something like attention… except at an angle more ready for use. A sergeant looked at Gyrfalcon. "Your business, Captain?" Gyrfalcon held his sealed orders towards the sergeant, and showed him the pertinent lines on the back of the orders.

 

Quote:

 

Captain No'Dessu, report as quickly as possible to General Alexander, for immediate deployment in his theater of operations. These orders are to be opened only by General Alexander, and the bearer of these orders is not to be reassigned to any task until these orders have been received and confirmed.

 

"Yes sir." The sergeant said, and saluted. "If you and your deputy will follow me…" Gyrfalcon and Karl dismounted, and followed the sergeant into the tent. Gyrfalcon blinked in the dimmer interior, and blinked again when the higher echelons of the military units in the camp turned to face him. At his back, Karl muttered "Oh gods…" Gyrfalcon just cleared his throat.

[Falcon2001]

Gyrfalcon stepped forward, then suddenly drew his sword, it's length shining in the torchlight. All the men gatherered around the table gasped collectively, and several stood.

 

"Forgive me, my lord," said Gyrfalcon, and flung the sword at the head of his commander. The blade flew straight and true...landing with a clink in a shadow two inches from Alexander's face.

 

"Clink?" asked Alexander.

 

Turning to look, the sword point dissapeared into the shadow as if it was cut off half way through, then it slowly came back out, finally revealing it's blade trapped in between two steel katar. Behind the wristblades, silver eyes glistened.

 

"Not bad, warrior, but I wasn't out to kill your precious commander." the voice sounded like a distant drum, low and melodious. Gyrfalcon's mind raced as he tried to place it, that strange voice. "Allow me to introduce myself, Gyrfalcon, since you seem to be at a loss."

 

The figure stepped out of the shadow. Silver eyes, like pools of mercury, glistened under thin dark brows. His hair was shorter and laid to either side of his face, framing it. The skin was like bone, the lips, like ruby. He was cleanshaven but for a small black beard that ran along the edge of his face, meeting in a goatee. He smiled, a cold smile that shone like moonlight.

 

"I am here to offer my assistance as a battlemage, and also as a military and magic advisor. My name is Cioden Darkeye, and if you know who I am, you would be happy to meet me." He ran a hand through his hair reflexively, then chuckled.

 

"Gyrfalcon here can attest to my battle prowess, as well."

[Guest Foe Calibur]

"And the others? Where are they?" Alexander was not alarmed by the Battle mage's entrance; he had been the subject of many such arrivals before, though most bore no pleasantries, “I grow impatient…”

 

Alexander stood at the far end of the table, opposing the door, with Midicus at his side. The mage Midicus was obviously not pleased with Cioden Darkeye’s entrance, he had seen such characters before… not unlike himself, thus he knew to be wary. And so he stood, back to the door, testament to his prejudice. “Be careful how you step, the young have much to gain, but more to loose…”

 

Alexander put a hand on his comrade’s shoulder, “Miducus… he would not have waited until now had his intentions proved your preconceptions.”

 

The mage grumbled and with mock politeness beckoned the pale man to take a stand at the table, “Your presence is appreciated…”

 

Alexander still stood at the head of the table, watching the man walk out to the table, taking note of his stature, “Please use the door next time…” His eyes were impassive, “We wait for one other, as soon as he arrives the conference shall commence.”

 

A young man stepped forward, his youthful guise glowing with Elven pride, "I-I can fetch him M-M'Lord!" He was almost a-flight with childish glee. He stood a head below most humans, with an air of innocence bounding about him. What he lacked in stature he made up with in heart, and although he was youthful in appearance, the scars on his arms and the rapier he wielded spoke truths none could imagine one such as he could contain.

 

This elf had lived far longer, and learned far more than most humans could attain in a lifetime, but speculation would concur, that through all of his teachings, he had never learned to age.

 

“That is quite alright, I am sure he will be here.”

[Gyrfalcon]

what in the Hells possessed me to do that? Thank the gods a little of my old magic works... Gyrfalcon flexed his hand, and the sword shimmered between the katals and disappeared, only to reappear in Gyrfalcon's grasp. He sheathed his sword, and brushed his fingers across the hilts of his throwing knives. much better to use these... he thought, gazing into the strange silver eyes of the one who called himself Cioden Darkeye.

 

"I'm afraid, General, that I can say nothing good nor ill about this man's fighting prowness... though catching the blade like that is in his favor... for I have never met him." Gyrfalcon said, frowning at the strange man. With eyes of silver such as those, he would surely remember...

 

Gyrfalcon shook himself, and walked towards General Alexander, holding out his orders.

 

"The orders that have brought me here, sir." he said simply, as Alexander read the orders, placing Gyrfalcon and his warriors under Alexander's direct command, answerable only to him, recieving their missions only from him. Alexander looked up, to see Gyrfalcon watching him in a patient, relaxed pose, ready to stand until the mountains crumble around them if he needed to.

 

General Alexander looked at Gyrfalcon, then at his deputy Karl, who blanched and stiffened even more, to Cioden Darkeye, and finally to Midicus.

[Falcon2001]

Cioden smiled wanly, his mind bringing up the details of Midicus from his storehouse of knowledge. His silver eyes glinting in the torchlight, he twisted his wrists and the blades folded together and slid up his sleeves.

 

"Thank you, M'lord, for your understanding. I was simply making sure that I was joining the right side...Gyrfalcon here has senses far beyond that of a mere mortal, I believe, or he would not have seen me."

 

At that exact moment a small shadow, flat and flickering with little wings, detached itself from the shadow behind Cioden and flitted up to hover next to his ear. Cioden listened intently for a few seconds, then replied in a strange rustling language. The shadow twisted up and dissapeared. Turning back to those assembled, he spoke.

 

"I will be able to help you by giving you my elite core of shadowmen, but be warned, they strike fear into the hearts of men, and cause most animals to flee. I can cast a temporary spell to protect your forces, but I can't promise to keep it going in the heat of battle." He sneered slightly at Midicus. "Even though my concentration is vastly superior to some mages." Before anyone could reply, he laughed harshly.

 

"I will lead them personally into battle, then, as they also tend to destroy anything in sight if not properly controlled."

 

He leved silver eyes on the large armored commander.

 

"So m'lord, do we have a deal?"

[Guest Foe Calibur]

A slight chuckle emerged from Midicus’s cowl, “Come now young one… have you not better things to do than pride yourself with mock certainty? One so young as to assume such dispositions truly has much to learn.”

 

Clearing his throat Alexander stepped towards Cioden and said, “You give my forces little credit, if you are to fight along side them I will need assurance your men will not do as you say… what was it, “Destroy everything in sight?” Alexander smiled, a confident gesture. His gaze fixed on the man’s silvery eyes Alexander stood, not shifting, awaiting Cioden’s response.

[Wyvern]

At a distance from the central tent of operations is the current lower class military barracks, at which several foot soldiers await their orders. Some pace nervously back and forth, terrified at the thought of having to meet swords with the hideous creatures of Rekmor... Some idly waste their time dozing off and playing cards, and some, such as Lance Freerider, grow increasingly impatient...

 

"I wish those military commanders would hurry the hell up..." growls Lance, clutching the hilt of his spear with one hand while stroking his beard with his other...

 

"I've got all Aces!" exclaims Lance's friend Bobor, tossing down his hand of cards on the mildew covered grass.

 

"...we're losing time..." continues Lance, grumbling curses while looking over Bobor's excellent hand and passing him the money he had bet "...we should be taking the initiative and striking immediatly, but those fools up in the commanding tent are wasting time with their strategic bickerings..."

 

Bobor shrugs. "Awwww com'on Lance... they mus' be gettin' some good out of it..."

 

Lance curses and spits on the ground, raising himself from his seated position and taking his spear. "That's all war is nowadays... politics! Come on Bobor, let's go and see if Jyoro and Kayn have any more of that liquer they smuggled into camp. I could use a shot."

 

Bobor grins and nods, raising to his feet and following his friend towards the source of alcohol.

[Falcon2001]

Cioden smiled, but his silver eyes flicked momentarily with annoyance.

 

"My forces are not mindless drones, Alexander," he said, dropping the honorific, "They can think faster on their feet than a cornered demon, and have at least twice the ferocity of the aforementioned monster, but I assure you that the only bodies left by them will be the force opposing you."

 

He started pacing a little.

 

"You may be wondering why I came to help you...and don't fool yourself, it's not for that warm fuzzy feeling of helping out the right side. For all I care, you could rape virgins and sacrifice small children, but what counts is a small portion of land that lies directly in their path of conquest. This land has been owned by my bloodline for quite a few centuries, and I'm not about to lose it to some haughty moron with a taste for power."

 

He stopped pacing then, and turned.

 

"My demands are thus: you leave my land completely alone and give me complete freedom for however long you rule; in addition to this, I may have my pick of bright young men or women to train as mages on my land, free of charge to their familes; thirdly, I will need an immediate apprentice, preferably fairly young, for the upcoming battle to help me. Those are my terms and if you do not agree..."

 

He trailed off into silence, but the silver eyes gleamed in the torchlight with unspoken promises.

[Guest Foe Calibur]

Alexander’s eyes relayed interest in the mage who addressed him, as did his propositions, but his features mirrored a somewhat amused expression, “Forgive me, I merely wished to ensure the welfare of my men… after all, I’m sure there was a reason you brought up the comment in question.” Alexander motioned to an empty seat at the table, “Please, sit.”

 

After seeing the annoyed mage to his seat he, Alexander, also sat, Midicus at his back, looking somewhat aimlessly out the tent flap in front of him. Billowing, still, against the burning horizon the shadowy pillars strengthened in numbers and doubled in size, “We must act quickly,” Alexander said, ignoring his unsaid opinions on the Battle mage’s arrogant disposition, “the wind carries forth the demon shade upon our land, testament to the threat we now endure.”

 

Alexander was somewhat uneasy, those that had gathered had gathered true of heart, though many came with ulterior motives. His forces were powerful, rarely outnumbered, and in the event that this was disproved they were well enough trained to defeat their adversaries anyways. More than once he had proved his worth on the battlefield, not only as a commander, but as a comrade in arms. Two to one odds, not in his favor, had never been a difficulty, but The Hand of Rectitude was never in those battles, it’s forces had much the same reputation as the one Cioden stove to defend of his own. This was a reputation Alexander did not look forward to encountering.

 

His gaze shifting across the table to his lead scout he spoke, "Thank you for the prompt arrival... as you've likely encountered the dituation is quite dire." his gaze hesitating on Gyrfalcon for just a moment longer he said, "I trust your scouts are in good order? It has been a while since I last needed you services."

 

“We can wait no longer… we must not wither from the battlefield…” It was Midicus who spoke now, true to form.

 

“I agree… if there are any questions or comments, I believe it is time we begin.” Alexander’s eyes drifted across the table.

 

“Oh… um… I would like... “ the young elf cleard his throat, he seamed quite nervous, “I… I am Matthew,” he extended his hand shakily to the dark Battle Mage, withdrawing it when no response was made, “I have dabbled… in magics that its…and I… I was thiniking, “Matthew paused for a moment, hoping Cioden would respond in some way, but nothing came. Gathering the rest of his strength Matthew blurted forth, “I could be your apprentice!” his eyes hopeful, and expressions nervous he stared straight at the mage.

 

“Yes… well,” Alexander thought for a moment then smiled, “We’d better get the questions and comments section of this conference over with, I believe there’s a battle to be had…”

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon nodded at Alexander's words.

 

"As you said, sir, the situation has become grim. We passed a flood of refugees heading deeper into the Confederacy as we travled here from the training grounds. They all know whats coming, sir. As to the state of my unit's readiness, General, we are fully ready to fight or lead as scouts, or to be committed to one of the other missions that is my unit's purpose, Sir. We wait only to be given our mission, General Alexander." Gyrfalcon bowed slightly and stepped back to listen to the negoations between Alexander and Cioden, his eyes dark as he thought about Cioden's shadowmonsters.

 

What difference will victory bring, if victors and vanquished cannot be distinguished? Gyrfalcon thought to himself, considering the monstrosities that were shadows given a semblence of life and a will to slay all.

[Guest Foe Calibur]

"Well..." Midicus scowled, "It seams your rash asumptions may not be ill placed Alexander..." Midicus was smiling, as much as possible, from behind his cowl.

 

"Which assumtiopns are those?" Alexander respected his friend, but didn't like being disproven or questioned, especially in front of others.

 

"Those of the oncoming army... they were just assumtions after all." Midicus paused for a moment, "Thier troops wandered into our lands... continuously. Being the pigheaded one you are, your first inclination was that they were going to attack... you may be right."

 

Alexander's face was red now, though a friend the mage never had the respect one should have for his supperior. Then again, Midicus never really viewed Alexander as a supperior.

 

His face still red Alexander continued, "Thank you Midicus for your... approval." He stoped to take a breath, "If there are no questions we must ready ourselves, the troops are getting ansy."

 

Midicus patted his friend on the shoulder, almost snidely, as Alexander rose to leave the tent.

 

(OOC: If there are other comments post here, otherwise move to the main thread for preperation posts etc.)