Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted »

Snippet #1498806

located in Valcrest, a part of Shadows of The Past, one of the many universes on RPG.

Valcrest

The Land of Valcrest, duh.

Setting

Characters Present

No characters tagged in this post!

Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

Footnotes

Add Footnote »

0.00 INK

Mageria twitched in her sleep. If one happened to be looking, one would have seen her eyes dart around beneath her eyelids. She tossed restlessly, one hand unconsciously seeking out the dagger she kept under her pillow.

She stood with her Black Knights as they attacked the Wolfpack’s camp. Five black shadows, faceless and known only to each other, they had given up everything of their past in order to be worthy to strike this blow. These assassins had killed their King, and now they would pay. At a silent cue, they all charged forward, blades at the ready. The Pack had only been surprised for a short moment before they joined the fight as well.
As Captains, Mageria and Krander had repeatedly told the soldiers that any obvious civilians were not to be harmed, but in a fight such as this anyone who picked up a weapon and fought back would be treated as the enemy.
Mageria had been in the thick of the fight, managing to not take any joy in it, simply doing her job. But suddenly it all went wrong. The fight swirled around her in one of those odd moments of peace that one sometimes finds. She was looking around for another target when a man with coal black hair stepped out of the shadows, swinging a shining blade on a long rope around his head. Mageria recognized him, even after all the time had passed. I know you, she thought, staring at her old friend wearing the cloths of an assassin. Struck absolutely dumb by the sight, she dropped her guard for one, critical moment. He brought the hooked knife up and around, using it to knock her helm off and at the same time scoring a deep cut across one cheek. She moved with the strike, turning away before swinging back and raising her sword once more. She saw the same shock spread across his face. Time seemed to stop, even though from a distance she could hear Grim bellowing in blood rage as he cut his way through the camp. He brought his own blade up, readying for another strike . . . .

With a muffled scream Mageria shot straight up in bed, her dagger held out in front of her to fend off the blow. Her breathing was ragged as she scanned the room, trying to figure out what had been a dream and what was real. Finally she collapsed back, fishing out the sheath for her dagger and slamming it in. Clenching her fists in her hair, she tried to stop shaking, but it was a losing battle. How do you get over losing a friend like that? With another muffled oath, she pushed out of bed and walked over to her cloths chest, kneeling down to fish out an old book bound in black leather with gilt lettering. It was an old book of children’s tales, the kind her mother had used to read her to sleep with. He had sent it to her, when she had mentioned one night that she had lost her family’s copy when they died.
“You’ll need this someday,” he said. She had laughed, but secretly she had cherished the chance to reclaim some small part of her childhood. With a sigh, Mageria climbed back into bed, slowly leafing through the pages to look at the illustrations. Somewhere along the middle was a tale where a monster from the forest tried to come into a brave farmer’s home. The monster wore a mask, but the brave farmer wasn’t fooled and drove him away with his family’s help. Mageria spent a long time simply staring at the illustration of the monster, hiding his true face away behind his mask. Then she gently shut the book and put it aside, curling up in bed and closing her eyes.
How do you get over losing a friend like that?
You don’t.

The next morning Mageria donned her black armor and strode out into the courtyard. Before her were a couple dozen of her best soldiers, all of them trained in ‘unusual’ battle tactics. She nodded to them as she went to check her own mount, a warhourse of frightening intelligence and utterly indifferent looks. She was a weapon in and of herself, and a good ally to have on the battlefield. Once she and her soldiers got to their assigned locations, they would pick several locations from which to strike. With a sharp whistle, she lead them out, some of them to their deaths. All she could hope for was to be as good a leader as she could be, and not waste the lives entrusted to her.