| abstract
| - Fastheld was used to build the massive Aegis, which encircles the city-state. The path atop the wall, bordered by a crenellated balustrade on either side, is about seven hundred feet above ground level. Iron stanchions are spaced out at even intervals, providing posts upon which to hang lanterns that gutter when the wind gusts. Through the parapet, one can see to the horizon of the outer realm - the unknown regions that are home to the wicked Shadow-touched Wildlings and Light knows what else; and within the perimeter of the wall, one can see the relatively cozy sprawl of the districts ruled by Emperor Talus Kahar. The patrol path is about ten yards wide. It is rarely warm up here. More often than not, it is chill and windy. Guardians assigned slop duties can often be found at a side stove, brewing apple ale or shak tea for those who are given watch duty. A stone stairwell leads down into the structure of the Aegis from here. Lucius Nepos stands atop the Aegis, his wolfskin cloak wrapped around the Guardian's segmented steel armour to keep him nice and warm. His shield is resting at his feet against his armoured legs, two iron spearpoints poking up from a compartment inside it. He scans the area below the Aegis, rather idly. Lucius Nepos Before you stands good looking young freelander man. His body seems to be that of a professional soldier - lean, strong muscle packed onto his arms, legs, back and chest. He stands 5 foot and 9 inches tall. His skin is what could be called slightly tanned. Below his short brown hair, lies two light green eyes, a prominent Roman nose and full lips. His facial bones are somewhat angular. All these feature seem to be further accented by the very light grey stubble that eternally rests on his face. He seems to have been born of good stock, and he carries an air of joviality with him. This man wears a white long sleeved tunic. The hem of the tunic reaches to above his knees, and below that are a pair of slightly loose grey winter trousers that fall to his boots, tucked in. Over the trousers are a pair of steel greaves. The tunic's waist is fastened by a thin brown military style belt. On his left hip is a scabbard which contains a very deadly looking short sword, 25" long with parallel double edges. On his feet are two steel boots. He wears an interesting looking piece of chest and shoulder armour over the tunic, made of several different pieces of strong curved and laminated steel plates attached with hinges. The top and bottom both consist of these plates, segmented from eachother, with two large shoulder pieces. It look both sturdy and flexible. On his neck he wears a dark blue scarf, to prevent scraping. His steel helmet looks protective while not restricting his senses too much. In the back extends a neckguard which projects outward slighly, while cheek guards rest on his temples and cheeks. An iron crosspiece keeps the helmet from being split open. He wears two segmented steel bracers. The man carries a long rectangular shield with him - 36" long by 25", curved at the sides.. It is painted dark blue, with the logo of the Imperial Blades printed on it. The end of two iron javelin heads can be seen rising above the shieldtop. He wears a grey wolfskin cloak over his armour, keeping him warm. Jurus Seamel offers a nod towards Lucius Nepos, as he approaches him. "How does it look out there, Nepos?" Jurus Seamel This is a young man, in his late teens or very early twenties, with a noble bearing to his step. He is right around six feet tall, with a medium build, and slightly tanned skin. His hair is black, and hangs down just past his squared shoulders, though it is gathered and tied back in a pony tail with a strip of leather. His eyes are a dark brown, twinkling with good humor. He is currently very well armored, in full plate. A cuirass, rerebraces, vambraces, and leggings, all made of shining steel. Gauntlets cover his hands, while heavy steel boots cover his feet. Around his waist is a Bushdragon belt, with a sheath hanging on it. Within the sheath is an expensive Silver Parrying Knife. He also wears a baldric with an elaborate silver sabre tucked in it. Over all, this is likely the garb of a member of the Blades. Lucius Nepos arches an eyebrow at the nobleman, offering him a slight, respectful bow. "Knapsack, m'lord. The Blademaster told me to tell people that was my last name while I was up on the wall." A slight grin peaks at his features as he speaks. "It looks clear, sire. No sign of any wildlings.. I suppose the attack two days ago was a probe, as usual." Jurus Seamel smirks, a bit. "Knapsack. Right." he leans just slightly over the edge of the wall, to gaze down into the lands below. "By the Light, we're a long ways up. He takes a half step backwards, tilting his head. "I wonder... How do the Wildlings get up onto the wall?" "Wildlings have large claws, m'lord - they can just scale up the wall at will. We usually hear 'em from the scraping of the wall, or baring that we see them when they get up and have to attack." Lucius explains, eyes drifing towards the two spears in his shield compartment - he pulls one halfway out and looks back at Jurus. "S'why these are so good - 'get 'em from a distance." Jurus Seamel nods, once. "Very much understandable." He leans over the edge, gazing down into the face and then nodding at the claw marks. "I see." Lucius Nepos glances down at the claw marks and nods rather slowly, picking up the aformentioned iron spear from his shield's compartment. "Can never be too careful with these nasty beasts." He comments. Lotan arrives in from down below, and, from the looks of it, not too happy as he marches onto the wall with his longbow. Noticing Lucius and Jurus, he walks over to approach. Lotan Here stands a tall, willowly man, standing at a few inches over 6 feet tall. He looks to be in his late twenties, with a full head of short, fairly well-groomed dark blonde hair. His eyes are a shade of dark blue, and his facial features light and thin. He has no visible scars or markings, and stands straight and tall. His body is thin and athletic, skin tanned from long hours outdoors, but lightly muscled and showing a body fit for speed and not brute force. He's currently suited fully in professionally crafted tawny leather armor, boots, pants, jerkin, pauldrons, bracers, and gloves. At his hip, he wears a tawny leather dagger sheath which contains a hunting knife. Over his body he wears a finely made woodland brown velvet cloak, hood drawn back to reveal his face. Over his shoulder he wears a 6 foot long oak longbow and on his back he wears a 3 foot long tawny arrow quiver. It's a cool, lightly windy - but otherwise - lovely evening on the Aegis. The sun is slowly melting into the nothingness of the beyond as sleepy Bladesmen yawn, and otherwise try to relax. There's really not much to see, hear, or do, except stare at the forboding forests outside the wall. Really nothing much to see, hear or do... ... nothing to do, that is, if you're not a merciless and bloodthirsty shadowspawn in the mood for fleshy humans tonight. As Red Patch moves, horizontally, across the back-wall of the Aegis is feral eyes dart about in the darkness. As long as he's able to pry those nasty metal shells off the man-beetles are actually quite delicious. Red Patch Set at a little under five feet tall, this slinky creature is covered in mottled, brownish-green skin, with several large, blackish patches across his scaly flesh. His face is a mess of ferocity, with close-together, bright red eyes set just above a puggish, flat-ridged nose, and a row of sharp, carnivorous teeth. The head itself is oblong, tapering back to a nub. His limbs are lanky but tightly-muscled, each ending in several wickedly-curved two inch claws. He is clad in a simple loincloth made of the skins of several small mammals. Jurus Seamel nods, as he takes a step backwards from the edge, one hand resting on his sabre. "Aye." He states, simply, licking his lips. "Actually, I'm regretting leaving mine at home, the more you talk about them..." Lucius Nepos smiles slightly and removes his second iron spear from its holding place and hands it to Jurus. "Just got two today, and got another down in my pack. Have one, you'll probably find use of it by the end of your stay, m'lord." As he spots Lotan, he raises his hand in greeting, shield still resting against his legs. "Lotan! How fare your wounds?" He asks. As the sleek little Bastard-Offspring of the Darkness skitters across the wall, he spies a delectable morsel with an identifiably easy-to-remove shell. That morsel would happen to be Bladesman-Archer Guyus Incognito - who doesn't really like manning the Aegis and never really wanted to be here anyway. In some great twist of ironic fate, Red Patch plans to make Guyus' dream a reality. He talonclicks in excitement: food! "Just fine, I'd say. My arm's good on me, now, and I'm fairly sure I can arch again. Though...that's not the only difficulty in the matter," grumbles Lotan aloud as he loads his bow to begin his patrol on the wall. Jurus Seamel nods once, accepting the spear. He hefts it briefly, examining the edge carefully. "Thank you, Nep.... Knapsack." He then offers a brief nod towards Lotan. "Jurus Seamel. Horseman." He states, by way of introduction. Lucius Nepos's ears perk up slightly, his eyes quickly shifting over to the spot that Red Patch crawls on. He narrows his eyes, raising his spear and gripping the throwing strap tightly, as if primed for release. Then, Lucius bellows, "WILDLING ON THE WALL! TO ARMS!" Lotan's eyes widen at the warning, speaking aloud, "By the Light! Not again!" He quickly forms to stay /BEHIND/ Jurus and Lucius, this time, his bow drawn and loaded to the ready as he takes up a position to support the two blades with his bow. Red Patch is not a happy Wildling. He's going to have to actually hunt for his meal. His ears pick up one... two... and perhaps a third - but he hears feet trampling once one of them yells. Without much further hesitancy, Red Patch carpe diems and leaps up from the brim of the wall and attempts to grapple Leather-Clad Archer Guyus Incognito! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAA!", screams a shocked - and entirely grappled Guyus Incognito. Off to Lucius' left on one of the parapets, a blurred 'thing' has appeared seemingly from nowhere to latch onto Incognito's upper torso. The 'things' dripping mandibles claw and tear into Guyus' face. His screams grow into gurgling as his larynx - along with chunks of flesh - fall from the Aegis to the ground below. Jurus Seamel grunts, as he hefts the spear that Lucius handed him, grasping it by the throwing strap as well. He turns, taking up a combative, throwing stance. He licks his lips, briefly, as he starts a slightly shuffling advance. He gasps, as he spots the Wildling flying through the air, taking a moment to aim his spear. Lucius Nepos has been on the Aegis for quite a while, so far, as well as being an experienced soldier. The Guardian realizes that the man is finished - if the claws don't kill him, then the poison will. He then quickly aims and chucks his javelin towards the mottled green creature, afterwhich he picks his shield up off the ground. Lotan takes careful aim from the Wildling at this safe spot behind the two Blades, longbow drawn back as he carefully gauges the distance. With a careful squint, the experienced archer lets the oak missile fly with a *twang* from his bowstring and a whistle as the projectile flies torward the Wildling. Red Patch howls out a chilling chitter as he leaps from the man's half-dead body. With a powerful kick from his hind legs, Incognito's writing, gurgling body falls from the parapet fifty stories down to the base of the Aegis. Red Patch tumbles towards Lucius Nepos, growling and hissing as his writhing body narrowly dodges the javelin - but unfortunately, fails to mess the whistling wooden missile. With a bloody *whump*, the Wildling drops to the ground, bleeding profusely with the large arrow stuck in his side. He's hurt, but not down, and he scampers to his feet! Jurus Seamel bites his lip, and then heaves his own borrowed spear with all his might, hoping to give the Wildling a third source of annoyance. Lucius Nepos shield faced outwardly, Lucius draws his beautiful shortsword, painted runes and all from its ashen scabbard and points it outwardly as well, ready to quickly charge at the wildling after Jurus' spear is gone. "Loose, m'lord!" He urges. Red Patch hisses with a rising scream and scampers towards Lucius Nepos. He easily dodges the spear as blood drips from his wound. He snaps off the offending arrow and tosses it down. In a rage, he leaps at the spearchucking guardsman in another claw-grapple! Lotan keeps his sted as he loads another arrow into his longbow, drawing the bowstring back carefully as he looks to deliver another powerful hit to the shadowspawn, though careful now as he positions himself to shoot the beast out of the air, and not his Lucius. As the Wildling ambles towards him quickly, Lucius does something unconventional. He gets down on one armoured knee and raises his three foot shield in front of him, which now shields a good portion of his body. With the leap of Red Patch, Lucius moves his shield slightly forward and then... BAM! He hits the Wildling square in the oblong head. Jurus Seamel pulls his sabre from its Baldric, after the spear disappears from his grasp. The sabre is turned slowly, for a moment held in the classic cavalry position, and then shifted into one more suited for ground combat. With a flick of the blade, he advances on the Wildling, waiting to see what it does after being shield-whacked in the head. Red Patch flies blithely into the air with a loud *bong*; his skull reverberating against the shield. What sounds like a low gurgle is emitted from the 'Lings mouth as he skids back to the ground. Panic now begins to set in - he's outnumbered and alone. The beast, cornered against a wall, darts his head back in forth in fright. With Jurus' advance, the 'ling takes his chance and leaps at the Seamel nobleman. "*Chitterchitterchitterclickclick!" Lotan's bow now properly gauged, he attempts to shoot the shadowspawn out of the air as it flings itself at the other Bladesman. Another strong *twang* of his bow, and yet another lethal oak arrow flies toward it's mark. Jurus Seamel blinks, as the beast flies at him. His steel-clad arms come up in front of his face, as he tries a variation on Lucius' technique: Rather then trying to smack the beast with a shield, he attempts to impail it on his blade. Lotan and his longbow are not two things, but one. In perfect symmetry, the Archer lets fly another handsome missile that skewers the deserving Wildling in the gut. A horrible scream, akin to an animal being strangled, escapes the creatures lips as yet another pain-stick delves deep into his belly. Blood flows from the wound; a green river of flowing onto the ground. Sadly, this is not enough to save Jurus who, despite his best defense, is suddenly grappled by the horrible creature. Red Patch sinks his claws into the steel, securing himself to the armor like a leech. For Jurus' unhelmeted cranium, two blood red eyes stare into his own as a stinking maw opens to reveal razor-sharp fangs. The beautiful, perfect fly of the arrow is the farthest thing from Lucius' mind as he rises, turns, and shield still facing outward lunges directly at the Wildling's back in an attempt to thrust his shortsword into the area where the beast's kidney's /should/ be. Red Patch screams in incomparable pain as Lucius sinks his blade into the creature's side. Now with three wounds leaking putrid blood and bile, the gray mask of death begins to creep over the creature's otherwise mottled skin. Sensing his own demise imminent, the Shadowspawn growls bitterly and rears his head back, only to snap it forward - fangs bared - in a horrible chomp at Jurus' neck. Lotan blinks at his nearly godlike bow, shaking his head quickly as he watches the Wildling grapple on Jurus. It might not be so amusing, were it not so deadly. Perhaps, it is then amusingly deadly. Either way, another arrow is loaded as he now tries to finish the beast off, aiming for the shadowspawn again while trying not to shoot Jurus, of course. A scream comes from the young noble man's throat, as claws sink into his armored sides. His arms flail, his sabre drops with a clatter to the floor of the Aegis. As the jaws bringing certain death move towards his neck, he throws out his gauntleted fists, trying to tear loose from the claws. Despite the Seamel's desperate beating, the Wildling manages to hold on - even after another arrow flies into his side. As he feels life slipping from him - almost - but not entirely - he puts every last ounce of his monstrous heart into sinking his jaws into Jurus' silky noble-neck. The flesh tastes good. Sweet. Delicious. His fangs go deep, blood dripping down his gullet. He drinks deeply, his breath hot and sulfurous. His shortsword still stuck in the Wildling's back and his eyebrows knitting as he watches his friend, the young nobleman Jurus Seamel, getting eat alive by a wildling, Lucius does the only sensible thing - he tears upwards through the Wildling's back in an attempt to cleave all of his internal organs in two. Lotan loads his bow yet again, hurriedly as he attempts to save the life of the Blade being chomped upon by the evil, evil shadowspawn. He positions himself again to ensure he has the best advantage as he raises his bow, eye squinted as he releases another whistling missile torward the Wildling. Jurus Seamel groans, as the blood begins to drip down his steel clad chest and sides, he flails his arms, throwing punches anywhere that he can reach. His eyes wide, as he throws every ounce of his remaining strength into freeing himself from the creature's clutches. Perhaps it was warlust, or perhaps the sight of the creature tearing into his friend's neck - whatever the case, rage fills Nepos' veins with superhuman power and he drives the sword upwards - cracking bone and searing muscle with the sheer force of his arms. The Wildling is, physically, skewered in two as the sword finally unsheathes itself of 'ling-flesh at the skull. It is a haunting, horrible sight - the blade removed mere inches from the Seamel's face, from a Wildling split in twain. Lotan's ever-superb arrows 'thunk' into one half of the corpse, while Jurus manages to free the other half, falling to the ground pitifully. Jurus' neck gushes blood. Lucius Nepos drops sword and shield immediatly on the ground, the Wildling completely butchered. His eyes dart from side to side before he yells, "HEALER! HEALER! WE HAVE A BLADESMEN BADLY HURT!" Lucius then begins to rip a sizable portion of Jurus' tunic off and tells Lotan rather quickly, "You must put pressure in it so it stops - I saw Duchess Rowena Mikin do this before." "Very well, then," utters Lotan, slinging the bow over his shoulder and kneeling down to press the make-shift bandage hard against the wound on the neck. Jurus Seamel moans, softly, as he drops to the ground, a sickly, pale look on his face, as the blood begins to pool around him. His gauntletted hands move up to his sides, touching the claw marks. He just looks at the glistenning redness, looking distant. The beginings of shock, to be sure. "M'lord, you must stay awake. Tell us about Silkfield, m'lord, where you come from." Lucius tries to bring up something, anything, to try and prevent Jurus from dropping out of the real world and into shock, handing Lotan the torn bandage. "You'll be fine, concentrate on staying awake." Lotan accepts yet another bandage, doing his best as he presses the cloth against the wound. Jurus Seamel coughs, a bit of blood sputtering out of the corner of his mouth. "I..." more coughing, though his eyes seem to be a bit more focussed, for the moment. "I grew up on a horse farm..." He coughs a few more times, his eyes going distant for a moment. Lucius Nepos forces himself to smile slightly, getting busy at ripping some more tunic to hand to Lotan. "A horse farm? Perhaps that is why you feel at home with them then, m'lord. I could never master combat off a horse." He comments idly. "Go on, sire." Lotan continues his best to pressure the wound, watching as the healers run quickly up the tunnel toward the fallen noble. That moment becomes good luck for Jurus. A healer, garbed in leather armour all over his body save his hands and wearing a crimson tunic and trousers arrives from the Aegis, rushing quickly up the stairs to be at Jurus' side. He opens up his healer's bag and begins to unpack items. "We shall do this on the spot. Continue talking to him." Jurus Seamel moans a bit more feebly, eyes flicking from side to side. "Yes.. I..." he coughs once more, blinking a few times. "I... I sure messed this one up, didn't I?" He blinks, his eyes focussed on something slightly distant, but he's speaking, and not in danger of dropping further into shock... "So much for... Glory." Lucius Nepos shakes his head, his good natured smile still present on his face. His armour now covered in both Wildling and Human blood, Lucius continues to speak. "You did fine, sire, especially for a horseman. Just have to work on that throwing arm." He lets out a slight chuckle. Lotan moves away as the healer takes over, remaining silent as he slowly shakes his head. "You did not suffer this injury for nothing, I assure you. Were that Wildling to pass, countless others could have died." The healer removes a good, thick white bandage and then replaces the already bloody red ones on Jurus' neck with fresh dressings. He looks at Jurus, now semi-stable, and then to the two Blades. "We must move him down to the barracks." He rises, replacing his kit on his belt. "Gently, now, as he is still frail." Warns the gruff man. Jurus Seamel flicks his eyes, offering a small smile at Lucius and Lotan. "Save me... One of the..." He looks up at Lotan, "Teeth... Or claws." He squeezes his eyes, once, then states, "And maybe a head..." He seems a little distant, just rambling now, "A wildling head would make a nice conversation peice for more room, yes?" "Indeed, master horseman. That'll be about the only part of the wildling not cleaved in half." Lucius says, surveying the completely destroyed Wildling corpse. Lucius then crouches downward and picks his shield up, placing it on his back, and wipes down his sword with a damp cloth that is supplied from his belt pouch and re-sheathes the sword. Finally, he gently moves to Jurus' feet to pick the man up. "Easy now.. One, two, three..." He gets ready to pick up with Lotan on the other end. The archer aides in the pickup of Jurus, gently aiding in moving him to where he must. "Easy, M'lord. If Nepos here didn't already butcher it enough." Patient carefully in tow now, the healer leads the way down to the barracks and out of the wind. The two javelins and the wildling corpse are left here, the man picking up Jurus' fallen sword and bringing it down with them.
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