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Chapter 3: To War


Started by Kilivin
Post #95323
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Chapter 2: The Legionnaire

Chapter 3: To War
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3E, 288 Sun's Dawn: “Parry! Dammit, defend the blows you half-wits!” A Tribune by the name of Hjulmar roared out towards the lot of recruits. He was a gritty middle-aged Nord with curly pale blonde hair, and his face was rugged with a scar crossing his left cheek. He stood taller than anyone else there, a whole 7 feet off the ground. He dressed in legionnaire officer leathers that were stained with mud, and boots that strapped around his massive feet. The sun was just rising on this dreary morning with the dirt turned to mud underneath the trainees. There were bits of blood spotted on the recruits in the yard from broken noses and the like. A whole yard full of recruits were dueling one another in perfectly formed lines ten feet apart from one another. They stretched across a hundred yard training ground of mud and grass. The clash of swords and roars in pain were heard loud and clearly throughout.

Those in tears or in anguishing pain Hjulmar patrolled to fiercely and picked them up and threw them back at their dueling partner to fight more, only to be bloodied greater. They had been training since 5 in the morn, which had been considered lucky by many of the already Auxiliaries who had sometimes been forced to train through the night without sleep.

“The legion is the mightiest of all for one reason! Discipline and skill at arms.” Hjulmar roared over the 100 trainees in the grounds still dueling in the yard. “This is gained not from nobility or coin but determination! And a whole hell of a lot of practice!” He continued. “Your weaknesses will be replaced by strengths! Your disabilities rendered null by your prowess!” He then grabbed a boy who was whining from a sprained knee on the ground and threw him to his dueling partner as he spoke, “And your failures with pain!” The boy yelped in pain as he was tossed with ease back into a parley with his opponent, who quickly brought him to the ground once more.

Arnilius was covered in mud after being knocked down from his extremely large opponent. An orc who shared no remorse for weakness, but great admiration for determination. Each time he and Arnilius were to get into a dance of blades he would knock him to the ground with his brute strength. However, each time he did Arnilius would get back up and go back at it. Until finally he bested his large orc opponent with a dodge and smash to the back as he charged forward. The orc gruffed at the blow and spoke out, “Ha! You call that a strike!” He then spun around and swung his dulled blade at Arnilius which clattered against his shield. Guarded, he pierced the orc where his armor was dull sending a shock of pain which while fought by the orc, widened his eyes in what seemed like pain, but only anger. The orc then dropped his weapons and grabbed Arnilius' hand still out from the piercing attack and he picked him up and threw him down into the mud.

Arnilius, dazed by this struggled to get up, but in the end finally rolled over and stood up slowly. He picked up his shield and blade again, struggling with small grimaces of pain from the bruises he was given. The orc chuckled, “You're hard to keep down!” Arnilius gave a small smirk and replied, “You're hard to bring down, orc!” The orc then let out a chuckle of pride and replied, “Call me Dol!” He let out a big cocky smile showing his jagged sharp teeth. Arnilius smirked, “And I, Arnilius.”

The practice continued up until mid-day when it was time for food. Some stayed to eat out in the yard, while others returned to their barracks. They were stationed in the Valus Mountains, Northeast of Fort Scinia. It was a morbid feeling place, but Arnilius cared little for the beauty of nature at this point. He was still glad to be in the legion, even if he were not an Auxiliary yet. Regardless of the pain and toil of the training, it was a welcome thing to Arnilius.

He sat upon the side of a rock as he ate his bits of meat and bread, which was washed down by a skin of water. He was joined by a Nord & the orc he had been training with earlier. The Nord, by the name of Loknar Bjund, was another brutish fellow, but for all his harshness he had a soft spot for wine and women even though he's ever had one of the two. His long and untamed hair was a dirty blonde, with eyes of the purest of sapphire. For all his small perfections, however, he was graced with many imperfections. His left ear had been cut off across the center, while his nose was slightly crooked. His teeth were raw to the root and misshapen with some of them missing. He was very strong though, and his strength was matched with that of his nimbleness. He also had a knack for restoration magic in his earlier years, but abandoned it for reasons that he tells no one.

Arnilius spoke to both of them over their meal, but he made quick friends with the orc, Dol, who he found out was Dolgar Gro'Malag during their conversation. It had been this way for almost two years for Arnilius. His training varied from day to day, but each day was a challenge he was willing and ready for. He saw little of Azafar in these past few months, but he was comforted by the fact they were at least in the same legion. Upon which time, Hjulmar marched into his bedchambers at dark the day before a trial was to be done for many of the others.

He spoke in a much less commanding tone on this visit with a grimness hung over him, “Arnilius, I would speak with you. There is not a way I can speak this simply, but your father is dead.” Arnilius was shocked, but he found no sorrow for his father's death. His father never visited him during his days in the Legion. He did not even get a letter or mention of him. He finally mustered up words to break the silence, “How? Why?” The Tribune continued, “It was rather sudden for all the information we were given. He was alive one day and the next, gone. He died in his sleep. . Peacefully I would hope. The legion mourns your father's death, but is grateful for the two Auxiliaries he put in his place.”

Arnilius came confused by this and retorted, “But I am not yet an Auxiliary, sir.” Hjulmar then finished, “That is the main reason for my visit. General Tirelius has taken interest in your abilities, as he did with your older brother. It is the only way to become an Auxiliary at such a young age.” He paused for a moment to Arnilius' grief, anxious to hear the rest of his words. Hjulmar stood up-right with a grunt before speaking further, “There is no reason to delay saying, however much I might disagree. Arnilius Trunnen – You are hereby given the rank of Auxiliary. You, and the rest of those who succeed tomorrow will be sent to Black Harbor before the end of the month.” Arnilius stood up-right, proud as ever, “Thank you sir! I will do the legion proud!” The Tribune snuffed, “Hopefully as proud as you.”

The next day, Arnilius watched the 60 or so other trainees in their tests with other officers and Auxiliaries. They went through multiple drills and the like which were taught to them in the year prior. Nearly 50 of the men succeeded in their trials, which was admirable compared to previous groups having only half of the men succeed. General Tirelius watched over the preceding which lasted a little over an hour, and afterward gave a speech to those who had succeeded. He stood upon a balcony overlooking the trial's grounds a dozen feet above,

“Men of the legion! You have today proven yourselves to the oaths that you did so swear. You bring honor and pride to the Legion, and the Legion recognizes this. Henceforth, you are all Auxiliaries of the Emperor's great empire. From this, I expect only the best from each and every one of you. You are to all be sent east to Black Harbor as your station. Welcome to the 10th legion, Auxiliaries.” The General's voice was powerful as it crossed the court of men tired and panting. As he turned to exit, his eyes quickly glanced at Arnilius sternly, which while Arnilius noticed he gave no glance back as it was deemed disrespect by many he knew. His sleep was long that night, as was many of the new Auxiliaries. The journey ahead of them was long, and they would need their rest.

They were sent off a week later to Black Harbor, and after a week they boarded upon their voyage. It was a huge ship, holding a vast amount of other Legionnaires. Arnilius was joined again by his friend, Azafar, who had also succeeded to become a battlemage. They talked many of the days of their journey, but the journey was long. Arnilius felt somewhat sea-sick on the ship the entire way there even though it was large. He was strong at this point, however, and he was also somewhat curious as to what awaited them in the lands beyond.

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Book 2: The Unnatural Storm - Chapter 1: The Town Of Ghosts
This post was last modified: September 5th 2013 01:14 PM by Kilivin


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Focus - AvA
Profession - Armorsmith Specialist
Class - Templar
Weapon - Mace & Shield
Occupation - Melon Bashing
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BlytheAlarynn, Triskele
Post #95327
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Bosmer
Wonderful yet again (: I especially like Dol, the new character you've introduced. Can't wait for the next part!!


Alejandro Jodorowsky: "Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness."
Keep your eyes open and your mind without favor.
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