Rathuris
Tentacle God
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2014
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Ariel Carellin: HP= 56, PP= 38, EP= 38. Status = Hung over but otherwise fine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Somewhere in the frozen hills of Crolia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Much like many previous nights since losing her love Ilarien, Ariel awoke to a pounding headache. She would find herself in her cozy tent laying on her soft bed. Her stirring would draw a worn out sigh from a man and a woman also sharing her bed. Upon thinking of the previous night, all she could remember was a hazy blur of drinking her sorrow away. Both of her bed fellows looked much to worn out, and didn't look like they would awaken for a few more hours yet. Unfortunetly she had very little time time to reminisce however as there was a loud cough from just outside of her tent. After a few moments, a male voice called out to her from beyond the tent cloth. "Lady Carelin, the commander wishes to see you in his tent." With that there was not another sound from him, likely wandering off to inform other officers.
Once ready to meet her commander and stepping outside the camp was much as she remembered from the previous day. The small band of a several hundred men at arms, several dozen knights and a handful of mages and spirit users were camped a few dozen miles from the northern entrance to the Pass of Ghosts. The Pass having recently been reclaimed from the orc horde, though for how long was anyone's guess. Their encampment was busy with the morning routine of breakfast and training. The shouts and clanging already beginning to drown out normal conversation, and the occasional moan of passion of someone taking what comfort they can before they march off into their next battle. This early in the morning as the sun shone down on her, the tent city before her was filled with colour from all the noble banners hanging on infront of tents, or for the more prosperous nobles from the center of their tent. Or from nobles and their men having tents of their house colours. The many colours easily visible against the harsh white snow covering everything. The whole display could have likely been taken for a circus if not for the nearly naked men and women already practicing with deadly weapon. As she walked, she could already see men and woman pack up tents and gear already, preparing for the day's march.
Unlike the other tents, the commander's tent was the only one a single colour, and was a of pitch black cloth. A simple banner sat out front, and it too was pitch black, with a single green flame in the center. And much like a few times she had seen the banner, she could make out an eye in the center of the flame staring back at her. After a moment the eye was gone as if it never exsisted, leaving her to wonder if it had been real or just a trick of the eye. Once inside she found herself in a arge pavilion. The inside was fairly simple with a dark lavender carpet covering the floor with a large wooden table dominating the center of the tent. A few magical flames floated about the cieling, casting ample light into the tent, and warming it against the cold chill from outside. A large map of the Crolian north spread across it's surface. Dozens of little flags rested on various spots on the map. She knew that the various coloured flags belong to their many forces spread across the north, the black one was them, and that the green ones were the orcs.
Ariel would find herself to be the last to arrive to the commanders tent. She knew many of the other officers quite well. The aged old human knight Jaxson Dunwell. Who was her direct superior and also the man who saw to her continued training. He was also in charge of the various units of knights and men at arms, including her own small unit. Recently, he had been grooming Ariel to take command of the knights. The massive behemoth of a man known as Ulfgar the Giant, who she knew could cleave whole knights in two with his greatsword Man's Bane. He led a force of men who where quite large though none rivalling Ulfgar, the other men had taken to calling them Ulfgar's fist. She could recall a few rumors of his mother having been wed to a giant. Then there was the pale skinned elf woman who wore skin tight white leather armour. Duvainel was the scout master, and from what she had seen of the beautiful and curvaceous elf, she was quite apt at her job. The last officer was the stern and often stone faced woman Cassandra Lorhain. The young pretty robed woman was in charge of their gather magical might, though at last count, they barely had more then thirty mage and spirit wielders combined.
Once everyone was at their spot around the table, she turned her eyes on their commander Aduialon. He is a tall and lithe su-ku-ta with dark skin, and even darker hair. Today he was wearing his dark leathers with worn magic runes, and knew today would likely end with blood shed. His bright emerald eyes scanning the gathered officers. And even now after spending many months with him, feeling his eyes upon her left her unsettled, glancing over at the other officers, she took some relief seeing that his gaze unsettled them as well, even stone faced Cassandra. She knew from talking with the men, that Aduialon was a fairly powerful spirit user and mage, and has seen him even best Ulfgar with only the runed long sword he kept on his hip. Though it was rare for a su-ku-ta this far north, it was even rarer for one to be her commander, though she knew that the Academy had sent him to lead their force, and likely being the only reason he was still in command.
Ariel would nearly jump out of her skin as a soft voice spoke at her elbow. "Tea or coffee?" The soft voice coming from a slender and curvaceous su-ku-ta woman with white skin and even whiter hair, almost in contrast to her commander. Much likely any other time, she wore a simple black dancer's outfit common to the Anudorian wastes, though it was clearly made of rich silks. The men in the camp simly called her the White Lady, as she had yet to tell anyone it, and Aduialon has never needed to speak to her. The very pretty cat girl seeing to his needs as if she knew ahead of time. After handing Ariel a cup of her requested drink, she would pour the other officers a class as well. Once done, she moved to kneel at Aduialon's side, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Ariel was still unsure about the White Lady, she did not know if she was a slave, a servant, or even just Aduialon's very submissive wife. Though she could not see any scars on her pale white flesh thanks to the revealing outfit she wore, or a collar to indicate she was owned.
Despite the unease his eyes caused, she could not help her attention from focusing on him when ever he spoke. Almost as if drawn to him. "Now that we have gathered we can get down to business. Duvainel's scouts have found a small band of orcs transporting what look to be their prisoners. At the last report they we half a day's march north east of our current position." Pointing a finger and placing a green flag where the orc band was. "We have reason to believe the prisoners are recent captures from a skirmish that happened near the Academy a few days ago." He then pointed to a spot half way between their location and God's Reach. "We must reach them before they get to an old elven outpost. If we can not, they will turn their prisoners here to their cause. I wish for the men to ready to leave in a couple of hours." He looked to see that each officer understood. Giving a pause for any questions to be asked, though it looked like the other officers had none. A hand moving to rest on the White Lady's head, his fingers lightly scratching between her ears. A soft happy purring quickly filling the silence.
Let me know if I got something wrong lore wise. Also I hope you don't mind me using the same header you do. I find it quite helpful to have for both me and you. 
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