Advanced Expert Poster
Joined: Aug 26, 2003
Location: Rocanis, Alastari
Sat Dec 12, 2015 10:05 pm
Reunion! General Pol, now an Alastarian Lord Protector, has no desire to meet some unknown fate on the Isle of the Eye for his ‘light’ atrocities and ‘minor’ war crimes during the Rirorni war. He is returning to his army on the Rirorni plains to determine if he’ll sack or just burn Rocanis completely to the ground.
* * *
General Pol had been riding hard and fast from Rocanis through the Rirorni plains to rejoin his brethren on the field. After assessing the situation, he planned on riding his forces back to Rocanis and if necessary, burn it to the ground to find those two Free Blade Merchant Guild scum. Remembering his Dark Arena fight against the Shrewish Giant, Rokori Klee, every Shrew he found, he’d place their head on a pike just out of spite. He was angry and as the saying goes, ‘Be wary of the vengeful Rirorni.’
It took almost a week to travel to their hidden garrisons on the plains, nestled in a valley and away from prying eyes. He didn’t doubt that even Shelia Greywand would have difficulty finding their location.
Dawn was beginning to break when he saw two hooded figures supporting each other in the distance leading two horses. He was close to his camp, but these didn’t appear to be his lookouts, as they weren’t on horseback. He drew his great sword and prodded his mount in their direction.
As he approached their fur covered armor indicated they were Rirorni, but something didn’t fit. All members of his militia rode. They couldn’t be from a rival Rirorni clan, as they didn’t have a clue to their location. They were too far from any city, Alastarian or Rirorni, to be civilians.
“Identify yourselves, quickly,” General Pol commanded.
Between them the two only held a curved Rirorni dagger for protection.
“By the Gods of the Plains, General Pol?” a man’s voice asked.
“Who are you?”
“My General, don’t you recognize us?” the second individual answered in a woman’s voice. They removed their hoods.
Their faces were covered in ash. The man held a symbol of a blazing sun divided by a clenched iron fist. The upper half of the sun was solid with metal flames roaring outwards, while the bottom of the sun was hollow with flames diminished. Pol recognized the symbol as that of a priest who did the bidding of Mytori, the Iron Hand. The Rirorni God of War. It was his Mytori Priest from the camp. While he didn’t consider himself religious, it was always a good idea to keep in that god in one’s graces. The woman wore soot covered white robes with layers of intricate patterns. It was his army’s Mystic.
“What are you doing out here? Where are the rest of my men?” Pol asked.
“Gone,” answered the Rirorni Mystic looking away.
“I have no time for games woman. Where did they go?”
“Sir, they are all dead…our camp burned and destroyed,” the Mytori Priest answered.
“What? That can’t be how?” Pol asked, and then in the morning sun saw billows of smoke in the far distance; where his army would have been camped.
“We were attacked by three different clans all at once. They were united and struck as one against us. We fought but their numbers overwhelmed us. I don’t know how many beside us were able to escape,” the Mytori Priest answered.
“Impossible, this place was known to no one…” Pol voice trailed off. He remembered, there were two who did know; the Free Blade Merchant Guild. He was the cause of his own army’s destruction. All feeling drained away in an instant. Emptiness filled his body, but then rage began to swell in the void. He welcomed it.
“I’ll make them pay,” Pol said quietly then shouted, “I’ll make they all pay!”
“Sir, what do we do now? There isn’t a friendly Rirorni city within two weeks travel.”
Pol’s soldiers were dead. His enemies were all around. There were no friendly Rirorni settlements. He had nothing, but his horse and his sword. While he had those things, vengeance was still possible. Revenge was a long road and for now, he needed to find shelter for all of them.
“We head north.”
“Into Alastari? We have more enemies there than we do in the Rirorni Empire,” the Mytori Priest said with concern.
“There is one place where we might find shelter.”
“Where?” asked the Rirorni Mystic.
“The Free Blade city of Rocanis.”