Tides of Revolution

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Tides of Revolution

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kouketsu on Thu Jun 19, 2008 1:09 am

Tides of Revolution


Location: Kasma, Ghale

Chnnnk! He landed with a thud and a clank, thick boots crashing down suddenly, followed by the sound of a blade smashing into hard rock. Twelve pairs of glazed and nearly hopeless eyes met him and focused for a moment before lighting with rapture. It had only been four or five hours since he was separated from them, but reunion was reunion and it gave his heart cause for celebration nonetheless. At least if he died now, it'd be with his comrades. He was proud that, despite the fervent chaos, they all remembered his words - if anybody was ever missing in action, Lake Kasma was where they were to proceed immediately.

Dusk stood himself up straight and shouldered one of two dual blades, the other tucked tightly in the casing strapped 'cross his spine. There wouldn't be much time and this was a fact he was well-aware of, the ceaseless echoes of blades clashing and spears impaling flesh could be heard on all sides of them. Two years had passed since Calismus extended its territory into Ghale and established a governor in the city of Ghalerion. And since that very same day, two years of arduous guerrilla warfare and popularly-proclaimed "freedom fighting" had ensued across the country side, the Harborym River that separated the two countries being the primary line of action.

Sporting that black headband of resistance tied in a knot tight about his crown, Dusk addressed that unfortunate and unquestionably bold dozen that had volunteered to take up arms with him in resistance, their eyes locked upon him anxious for the first word he might utter. "...Long time no see?"

The smack of a firm fist or two would follow, with the customary rounds of hugs after that. Despite the fact that they just might've been utterly surrounded, completely and totally outnumbered, and fighting for a cause that was virtually unreachable, the entirety of that troop seemed calm. The man who had brought them together and lead them for six arduous months brought that blade back to the ground and found a dirt patch to begin etching out a combat map. Once again all sights were on the former Lord Baron of Ghale, looking to him for guidance.

"Four squads are posted here, ten to a squad, spear armed and with heavy armor. The calvary has posted here to the north. There are roughly six dozens of them in all on horseback, but I surmise there's another three legions of reserves behind them, six hundred or so in all stationed there on the hilltop. And coming from the capital down south, I've received word that a number surpassing twelve thousand are on the march to Dame and the free cities. And from the west, the entirety of the western river bank is Calismian troops. Easily five hundred thousand stationed. We have very few moves open, but we cannot, under any circumstances, advance to the western front."

He abruptly stopped speaking there and raised his eyes from that map to those of his allies, which in turn looked to him anxiously, awaiting orders on which direction to move, although each of them was consciously aware of the fact that the map Dusk had just drawn, in fact, had them completely and utterly surrounded.

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Kouketsu
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Re: Tides of Revolution

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alucroas on Sat Jun 21, 2008 2:04 am

*Squssh*

Ah..the sweet sounds of getting one's foot stuck in a pile of shit, then coming to find out that in the valiant struggle to remove that beloved shoe that you paid five hundred sickles for just got stuck in it. Now you have to reach in there, sort of like sticking your hand in a cow's ass, hoping to find the diarrea-inducing bacterial parasite that's been swimming around rummaging through its anus, looking for a suitable spot to place its bio-lax and make that poor farmer's life Hell. So here you are staring at this disgusting sight, ready to throw up all over the place, and hope one of the local town-bums slips and fall on his ass. Yeah, you think your day just got better because you got to run up to that little pig-fucker so you can point and laugh at him.

And right out of nowhere a guard just happens to pop up and fuck up your day.

"GODDAMN IT, YOU MOTHERFUCKING SCOUNDREL. THIS INNOCENT YOUNG MAN JUST SHATTERED HIS HIP THANKS TO YOU AND YOUR GODDAMN NEGLIGENCE TOWARDS LITTERING!"

So, like the 'scoundrel' that you are, you decide to grab one of the many lanterns attached to one of the tavern-walls, claiming you have trouble seeing which is why you missed the trash-can; little does he know, you're really preparing an explosive cock-tail. So you sling your little concoction at the guy, and hits its mark right on cue, blowing that little shit-stain clear across the cobble-stone pathway, and crashing into one of the many merchant-stands scattered across the streets of Ghalerion; each and every one of 'em hoping, begging, pleading to whatever deity was sitting there lounging around on their fat asses, eating their apples, and getting their banana's ripened up by some goddess with melons the size of the explosion that just occurred outside, that the guards might just go easy on them with the local tax-fees.

And you know that guy is FUCKED.

So now you scream out loud. "Son of a bitch! Now I have to make it all the way home drunk without getting caught by one of the FUCKING GUARDS. Ugh...this is going to be one horrible day.." Now you're jogging home with a bit of a wobble, occasionally stumbling into a few peasants here and there, but other than that everything's going just peachy. Yeah, if by peachy you mean getting kneed in the balls by each and every one of 'em thinking you were trying to cop a feel, which leads to eight guards tackling you to the ground, somehow managing to be narrowed down to three thanks to that trusty sword you had sheathed on your back.

And just like the merchant. You. Are. FUCKED.

And you almost did get fucked; quite literally at that, by one of the many jail-birds who were once 'noble guards', 'leaders', 'men high up in the government', and so forth, until one of the much stronger brutes who just happened to a homophobe (talk about lucky) happens to see this ridiculous shit about to ensue and smashes their faces in. A few minutes later you wake up sitting in a corner, listening to this giant talk about how he got here, and you become good friends. Eventually you decide on sharing the part of your life that actually mattered. The epic brawl in the bar, which lead to your stupid ass getting arrested, killing managing to break out, killing a guard that happened to be the man's brother, nearly turning the entire city of Ghalerion into a blazing inferno, your epic trip to Habor- "Wait...what did you say that man's name was again?"

"Some dude named Stroghor...."


"OH YOU'RE DEAD NOW. THAT WAS MY BROTHER, YOU PIECE OF (So now you're thinking that you are FUCKED AGAIN!) SH- Ogh...coch..co-och"

So right before he's about to multiply that ass-kicking he just gave your inmates by 10,000 and focus it all into murdering your unfortunate ass, you grab a chipped rock that happened to be laying down next to you, pick it up and slit his throat clean open with it, killing the bastard in one clean stroke. "Oh, shut the Hell up, you sack of shit. You'll be happy in the after-life knowing that you'll never get to pass on whatever dysfunctional genes that made you the jackass that you are to the next generation anyways." So now there's a shit-load of commotion going on and nobody will even dare approach you. But then again, there's always the exception of that guard who just happened to step into the large cell to investigate what had been going on.. he notices the blood splattered on your black trenchcoat, and you mockingly tip the brim of your hat to the dead body, "Nobody likes a homophobe. Besides, all these men were tired of never getting to be the pitcher and always having to be the receiver."

So now they're all thinking of a comeback to that insult, "There's no way...we're going to let that prick disrespect all of us..." "Wait a minute...all of us.." You being one of the brighter fellas of the pack know damn well, that after listening to this little discussion that you're about to be on the ground just like that poor brute in about 0.7 seconds, bleeding out your penis with your face looking like it just switched places with your ass. But no.. you wise up.. you notice that guard paying more attention to the discussion than to what you just did, and like the brave little asshole that you are, you grab his spear from his hand, his rapier from his sheathe, tell him to shut his face and sit down before you break his funny-bone and slit his throat with that chipped piece of stone and make your get away.

But before you leave, you decide to add insult to anal injury which just happens to be a few minutes away after you order him to remove all his clothing and armor, give you the keys and step inside the cell. You lock the door, throw your new garments on over your regular clothes, slip on the protective armor and take a stroll to the room where they were keeping your weapon. Just a few minutes later and you're already there, overhearing that stripped guard's moans of despair, strapping your blade over your back, not forgetting to grab a quick snack from the cafeteria which just happened to be serving some delicious baked chicken. You grab a large satchel and fill it up, take a quick bite and you walk out the door, as if nothing ever happened.

So now you're walking down the street, thinking about something sweet.. like maybe a few waffles, some pancakes for breakfast, until suddenly you walk into the bar and catch sight of the very same shoe that got you into this mess to begin with.. and immediately cross keep on going, looking around.. making sure none of the guards are getting suspicious as to why you're carrying chicken and a blade that in no way resembles a standard military-issued weapon. But of course, you're quick to sneak away once conversation about your rather stand-out appearance gets brewed up, and ends up leading back to that jail-cell where a load of angry prisoners, a guard, and even the ghost of that poor brute are waiting to beat your ass.

Fortunately for you, your ass didn't become grass. In fact you made it all the way into the forest, and are on your way to find a peaceful field where you can gorge yourself, until your stomach explodes. And right when you're about to reach the climax..

*SMACK*

"OW!"

"GODDAMN IT, VON. WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DAY-DREAMING IN DANGEROUS SITUATIONS!?"

"Well, gee I don't know. Maybe if I wasn't doing it, I wouldn't have gotten ambushed by you shit-heads, dragged through the forest, forced to remain STUCK HERE WITH A BUNCH OF FUCKIN' GUERILLA FIGHTERS ABOUT TO WAGE WAR AGAINST A BUNCH PANTY-WASTE PIECES OF SHIT, NUMBERING IN THE FORTIES, POSSIBLY THOUSANDS BEYOND THAT, NOT TO MENTION FIGHTING ALONG SIDE THE ONE SCREAMING ABOUT ME DAYDREAMING!?"

"DAMN RIGHT, DIPSHIT!"

"CALL ME DIPSHIT ONCE MORE AND I'LL HAVE THIS BLADE IN YOUR ASS."

"Be quiet! Less want to get your heads chopped off!"


And just like all those poor bastards, whose lives you made a living Hell out of.

"Man I'm fucked.."
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Alucroas
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Re: Tides of Revolution

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Matthew on Mon Aug 04, 2008 7:03 pm

Location: Western River Bank, Kasma, Ghale

“Kreais, what the hell are we even doing here?” Doran said, sending a fallen tree branch flying with a heavy kick.
“We’re military Doran; just following orders.” Kreais replied, hoping to a sitting position atop a barrel, “And since when did you care? Weren’t you the one babbling on about ‘the honor of Calismus’ and how it’s our duty to uphold it?” smirked Kreais.
“Look around us Kreais! We’re numbered in the hundred thousands, and we’re facing, what, less than a fifth of that? There’s nothing honorable about a massacre…”
“I’m sure the higher-ups will beg to differ.”
“You included in their ranks, huh? You think this is all for the greater good too!?”
“Calm the hell down, Doran!” interjected Kreais, “I was just saying tha-
-Raelek! Get off your ass! The General wants to see you.” Screamed the Major.
“Sorry Doran, duty calls…” sighed Kreais, pulling on his officer’s coat and strolling after the Major.

Marching into the war-tent Kreais came to a sharp halt and offered his grandest salute, “Lieutenant Kreais Raelek, reporting in Sir.” The General nodded in approval,
“At ease, Lieutenant. I’ve brought you before me for two reasons. First: to update you on the current situation, and second: to issue you your official mission in relation to our predicament.” Standing and turning full circle the general walked towards the map, “For four days now we have been awaiting an approval on an advance to the Capital from Lord Yros himself. However, we recently received a message explaining Lord Yros’ preoccupation with his protégé, and his temporary halt in war activity – effective immediately: I am now in command of Calismus’ Army and all it’s movements.” The General grinned,
“My congratulations General, it’s a position most befitting a man of your many talents,” replied Kreais, “haha! Thank you Lieutenant, I thought so as well!”

Kreais watched as he turned his back to him and rolled his eyes in agony on the uptight, ass-kissing behaviour he was displaying, it made him sick. “Now, onto the more pressing matter: Before I decide on a concrete strategy I require in-depth recon on the enemies’ positions, their numbers, and an estimate of their fighing ability. I’ve assembled couplets of soldiers to inspect the North and South. All that is left is the East. It’s right under our very nose and yet we know nothing of what is waiting for us. Lieutenant Raelek, I’m appointing you to find anything out there that is to be found, and report back on anything you find. Under no circumstance are you to engage the enemy, do you understand?” folding into his second salute Kreais replied, “Yes Sir!” the General then returned to his seat, “Good, you’re dismissed. Good luck out there,” Turning on the spot, Kreais swiftly marched out of the tent.

The Major faced the General, “Sir, ar you sure to send Ralek? He’s but a lieutenant and he doesn’t even seem motivated towards any order!” The general returned the Major’s grimace with a grin, “Do you even know who you’re talking about? That man is a Sparsian Graduate, and 5th out of his entire year! Believe me Major, I’ve chosen my subordinates well.”
“A Sparsian!? But we’ve only 100 amongst the ranks, Sir, does this mean he’s among the strongest soldiers we have here?” The General gave the Major an almost puzzled look, “Strong? Hmm, perhaps – but his real specialty fits this mission perfectly. Ask him some day – maybe you’ll find out why.” Smirked the General.

Equipping his light armor and weapons, Kreais Raelek took a deep breath. And breathing out, he opened his eyes and within seconds he had cleared the camp and had begun his advance, with inhuman speed, from the Western Front into the unknown regions of Ghale.
If you want to kill a man with words you could always try beating him to death with a dictionary :P

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Matthew
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