Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Lost in the Blizzard - A village Torn

Drake braces himself and blocks the spear with his shield, he tries to slam one of the edges of his short sword onto it, hopefully to chop the spear head off.

The untrained miltiaman does not stop, or pull back, once the spear is blocked. The blade collides with the spear, causing it to recoil - yet it is no broom handle, and it holds up with mostly cosmetic damage. He would continue charging attempting to drive his weight into the knight and knock him over, yet he leaves himself vulnerable to attack.

He tilts his shield upwards, causing the spear to slide up the shield and over his helmet, once that happens, he tries to swing his short sword at the militiaman's legs.

The militiaman lacks the grace, and fluidity to evade the attack. His legs bare no armor, beyond thin leather, so he simply collapses - hi tendons sperated, cannot hold his weight, and he falls face first into the snow, his cries muffled by such.

The second man leaps over the man fallen, bringing his spear up, and attempting to drive it through his armor in a flashy, flying, but not combat effective method.

Ivan looks around the inn. It seemed almost like something he'd see in a warzone. Well... this seems to be almost as relevant to war as it can get. Bodies everywhere, burnt materials, blood. It was all too sickening for him to take in, yet he tries to hold in his disgust. He places a hand on his armoured mouth and attempts to swallow down some vomit. Ivan slings his bow over his shoulder and rushes to Kalliope to check her pulse. He wouldn't bother with Horace as he looks damaged beyond repair. He turns Kalliope over and looks at her, noticing the blood smeared on her face.

As Ivan turns her over, she fights with every single fibre in her body not to move. She manages to take a peek at the man, deciding that he was way to challenge. She doesn't recognize him right away, which of course makes her suspicious. She thinks she saw him wearing armor which equals soldier to her.

Tarben stiffens as Kalliope is turned to her back, which is ironically exactly the effect he desired, and that which was required.

In his mind's eye, he witnesses as the soldier detects life in the scholar's body. And he listens as she screams the throes of death.
And he is indifferent.
His fright turned to instinctive detatchment.
The soldier would surely not see the boy, for he did not shake as she did.
He would survive... He had to.

And yet, reality was returned to him, and Kalliope was not dead.
A slow and quiet exhale stirs the blood that spread about them as wings, his sigh of relief and preparedness.

It didn't take long for Ivan to realise that she's alive due to him checking her pulse and heartbeat. Ivan now knowing she's alive inhales in excitement. He was concerned that all he'd find is the dead strewn about, but not this time. "Hello?" He whispers at her, leaning in close to her face. At this point, he had not taken notice of Tarben quite yet. He wanted to focus on one of them first before moving on to the next.

Drake keeps his shield raised, sheathing his shortsword while blocking the attacks/flailing of the militia man. He picks up a handful of dirt from under the snow and throws it at the militia man, trying to aim for the face.

Even though begging for mercy would be the wisest to do, in instead just open her eyes, staring into his. In case Tarben would be overlooked, she doesn't want him remembering her screaming and crying final moment. She just stares right back into the soldiers eyes.

The militiaman turns his head to the side as the dirt is flung up. Though, the snow is thick, and such was the majority of what was tossed. He ambles backwards to regain his senses, as the two other spearmen charge in from both sides, attempting to stab the Knight from both angles.

He backpedals, keeping his shield raised, constantly looking between the three. He strafes to the right, keeping his shield faced towards the militiamen, he once again unsheathes his shortsword.

The men use some sort of tactic, at least, keeping themselves in a cresent moon shaped formation to hold him at bay, whilst they jab spears from a careful distance, hoping to trip him up, or land a lucky blow. The spear jabs would come from all directions.

Thoughts of flight enter his stilled and quieted mind.
So, too, do thoughts of attack.
This soldier was occupied with Kalliope- perhaps the boy could wrestle him to the death?
He was by no means weak, yet it was quite unlikely he could best the mountain that towered above them.

Still, he could not die without knowing the fate befallen his woman...

Preparing himself, his body tenses, and he would mean to lunge from his bloody bed and gain his feet.
If not hindered, he would flee, hoping to leave Kalliope to what circumstance had been dealt her.
She could hardly fault him, surely?

If all this were allowed, his escape brings him to the stoop, and across from it stands the market he had taken refuge in before.
The warrior would pursue him, he was certain, and the exits were the logical assumption for any pursuer.
He would race to conceal himself amongst the shattered crates and debris.

(Lazy passage is lazy.)

(The attempt was that he would run.
I did not control Ivan, however. I wrote that Tarben thought he would pursue him. He is still under the impression that he is the bad guy.
'The warrior would pursue him, >>he was certain<< , and the exits were the logical assumption for any pursuer.'
That is what I wrote.)

(Note that, by 'attempt', I mean he can be halted at any point in time, by any player.)

((Oh okay, I just wanted to clear things up before I post the wrong post ))

Ivan leans back slightly to give more space for Kalliope. He looks to the left, then the right, then finally back at the woman. "Are you okay?" He asks her in a quiet whisper, trying his best to not sound threatening in the slightest.

Admitted, she is surprised over how calm the soldier seems. And friendly. She sits up, and backs away from him a bit. "Who are you?" she asks, full of suspicion. She knows how to butcher a lamb. If the lamb sees the knife, it will be scared. That would leave the meat in bad quality. You have to make it feel safe, before you cut its throat.

Tarben's escape, and then his hiding on the porch is quick, and easy to miss. The soldiers miss it, yet the Sargent does not. He gives no order for the others to follow, he says nothing even. He is certain he saw something, or someone, hide behind the broken crates and barrels that littered the stoop.

He slowly makes his way forward, unsheathing the long sword from his hip from a leather scabbard. The usual 'ring' can be heard as it is drawn from its home. The Sargent slowly trods through the heavy snow, boots making heavy impressions within it. He places one foot on the stair, resonating in a notable noise throughout the tavern. He takes another step, slow and cumbersome, yet forceful in planting. He narrows his eyes and looks over the porch, searching for some hint of the man being hidden near.

Hidden there by the stoop, Tarben would indeed note the heavy step that the Sergeant set upon the timbers.
However, he had expected Ivan to give chase, and so he would simply lay there hidden, anticipating that the soldier would pass by and allow the boy a chance to... Well, he would get to that part when it came to him...
Yet, Carmichael had not figured into his half-formed plot.