NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a closed RP between friends meant to introduce Lorkhan and Corellus to NS RP. If you wish to participate please send me a telegram and we will find out how/if you can get involved. Any OOC commentary is accepted.

Trial of Amarth: Death In Fire


Though Lorkhan was well into it’s summer season, the northern mountainous region of Jethro remained exceptionally harsh for early June. The threat of another monsoon thundered overhead as gusts of wind picked up around the troupe of seven that marched through one of the dampened muddy trails that led around the towering Mount Thodrak. Clothed only in a commoner’s wool overlapped with mountain gear and armed with cheap AK-47‘s, the group appeared to be nothing more than wandering militia men or adventurous pioneers. In truth they were the furthest from it.

In many nations across the globe, typical political leaders would consider it a recipe for suicide to come this far out into the remote regions of their nation far from the sanctuary of civilization companied only by a few close guards and advisors. In Lorkhan’s northwestern wilds danger was especially a product of environment. The Grruhounds, ferocious wolf beasts, prowled the depths of the local forest in packs that preyed on those unfortunate enough to fall on their path. Meanwhile bands of rogue thieves, slave traders, and smugglers took advantage of the lack of order in the region on any would-be victim that came upon their patrols. It was true that to wander these lands required an iron will, a feeble brain, or a combination of both. A benefit to Lorkhan that their leader possessed only the former.

“The warrior that the Phalanx are presenting to us will be worth this expedition, I assure you Tiber.” Military Executor Kraft states to his direct superior by first name, signifying the close relationship the two hold rather than disrespect for official formalities. “I have seen him willingly take on four armed men with only his hands. Each of them lay dead by his feet, their blood smeared across his face.”

“The Phalanx have always been adapt at combating superior numbers Holden.” the Grand Nasier shrugged. “Else I’d have no interest in utilizing them as my personal guard or my military commanders. In a world with military dictatorships commanding millions of barbaric hordes so quick to consume the civilized, it is the least I require of a man to be capable of warding off many.”

“Of course old friend, and based on those merits you must know a Phalanx worth exceptional praise is truly a prized individual.” The shaven military commander responds with a smirk. “Though you must already know that we are all truly prized and worth all the merits of a true warrior.”

“You speak so highly of your own kind.” Taunts the diplomat of the party, and the head of Lorkhan’s foreign affairs. She is wise beyond her years and her beauty proceeds her age by at least a decade. She was raised by the witches of Eastern Odran to be a mere ‘prize’ to a rival clan, but instead of serving as a mistress she found herself wrapped in a civil war that would trigger her rise to one of Lorkhan’s highest points of power and a symbol of strength for the nation‘s women. Long have the Odrani cults and the Phalanx been in heated rivalry, the extent of which was severely limited by the distance between their territory, but the spite remained none the less. “But what of your kinsman we found left for scavengers earlier in the evening? Dead by mere thieves from the looks of it. I wonder if perhaps the ego of the Phalanx in conversation surpasses their skills on the battlefield.”

Kraft lashes out, shouting and cursing chants in retort to Pesch’s insult. It is a foolish outburst that could potentially alarm any unwanted guests, and bring more trouble to the group then they have already faced with the unfriendly weather. Only the convincing and equally intimidating gestures of the entourage’s guard brings the threat of hostilities to a halt. Four men of equal size and stature to Kraft flank the executives with their weapons aimed true to their targets. The fact that they are bred from the same tribe as Kraft is a testament to their all-encompassing allegiance to their duty and their appointed leader above all else. Silence falls like a ten ton hammer smashing the petty conflict and the argument is ended.

Valias says nothing, choosing instead to ignore the bickering of his advisors and wait to see for himself how skilled the coveted fighter is. If he is worth the same credit as his reputation, then he shall serve as the Hand Mjölnir. The physical extension of his lord’s will and his chief defender, and unknown to all but Valias himself, the pedestal on which he will build a new empire.

The Ajoi were well known for their ability survive in the wilderness. Most of Gravedom had remained untouched by civilization and so they were adept in finding their own way through the thick expanse of the wilderness on horseback and motorbikes, but the Ajoi were exceptional in their ability to move quickly and track prey. In this group there were about fifteen hunters, but there were other groups up to five and ten to the north and south that were moving in on the same location.

"The boarder to Lorkhan is two miles from here." the leader of the Ajoi pack told his men. "We will face the Wall of Kalma, but we have recieved information that will guide us underneath the barrier into their lands. Then we shall take our prey."

The several other Ajoi bandits grunt and howl, some of them firing off their weapons in the air as they do so. Soon the Ajoi hordes will be known through out the lands as the slaughterers of Lorkhan's highest lords, and their rewards would be great.

The envoy reached a wide clearing in the middle of a larger expanse of woodland on the eastern side of Mount Phoria. The clearing was defended by a group of two dozen Phalanx sentries, though a fair portion of the patrol remained unseen around the perimeter of the opening.

“Hail the Highborn, welcome his as we welcome ours!” a ceremoniously dressed Phalanxi warrior chanted as the group made their way toward the towering inferno that burned in the center of the clearing. Behind the warrior a group of three who were armored in similar fashion repeated the initial verse as if in choir.

Valias nodded in response and greeted the four men warmly. The introduction was a bit too much for his particular modesty, but for centuries it served as the traditional greeting used by the clan for the ruler of Lorkhan and not even Valias would seek to rearrange that custom.

“Good evening Lord Foldeg.” Valias responded with a firm handshake. “It’s never less than a pleasure to be met with the hospitality of the Phalanx.”

The rest of the party trailing the Nasier saluted their hosts, and the bodyguards along with Kraft hailed their tribal chieftain respectfully. Goldar Foldeg had served as the warlord of the Phalanx for near twenty years, and it was his support that had won against the despot Emperor that had ruled over Lorkhan fifteen years ago. He was well into his late 50s, but he appeared far younger and could combat most men half his age without breaking a sweat. He was taller than average even for one of Lorkhan and his form muscular. Strapped to the side of his crimson suit of armor was a traditional throwing axe, and a unique rifle attached to a spear was slung round his shoulder.

“Please my Nasier.” Foldeg responded after appropriately saluting each of his guests. “The pleasure is ours to deliver to you the greatest warrior the Phalanx has ever bred.”

“Aye, as I’m sure it is.” Valias smiled with a nod as he patted the warlord on the back. “Though I’m wondering where this warrior might be and when we can commence the ceremony. My stand in is competent to operate the country without me of course, but had I not enjoyed my duty enough to miss it I surely would have never become the leader of our land.”

“Of course.” Goldar responded with a chuckle. “Amarth is amongst us preparing for the presentation.”

The warlord waved his left hand toward a portion in the clearing partially lit by three small torches. The Nasier and his men could barely make out four tents placed side to side with each tent guarded by one imposing Phalanxi warrior.

“But first shall we indulge in supper? Goldar Foldeg offered. “We’ve readied a wonderful boar for your arrival if that will be sufficient.”

“That will do.” Valias replied thankfully. “It has been long since I enjoyed a meal not pampered by the luxuries of being a ruler. My party and I would love to dine with you before the competition.”

Pesch was sickened by the grotesque notion of dining with these pigs, but she too had been a long way from home and had gone several days without a true meal. She shuddered at the thought and followed the group to where they would dine .

The Wall of Kalmah was a massive fortification that was built along the boarder of Lorkhan to defend them from the notorious raiders who prowled the boarderlands. The foundation was planted so long ago that many did not know where the wall truely began, and over the centuries additions had been made to it to maintain optimal relevance to Lorkhan's defence.

Guards patrolled the narrow paths atop the wall supported by helicopters that flew by every so often with spotlights beaming down on the barren landscape. The turrets, machine gun nests, and cannons that were built into the wall omniously reminded the Ajoi that to contend with the wall on the ground was to meet death.

"Where is this path?!" an Ajoi warrior named Urgma demanded of his leader once they reached the meet up point. "We dare not face the wall. We will be slaughtered! Have you led us to doom?!"

The Ajoi leader spread out a map and shown a small light on it. The map detailed a small path that cut down into a creek. The creek ran into a port that extended out of the wall into the Gravedom territories.

"Here!" the Ajoi leader barked. "The port is about a ten minute ride east. We will enter seperately in parties of three between five minute intervals. The port will lead us to a waste plant on the other side of the wall."

"And what then?" demanded Urgma doubtfully. "The plant is patrolled by guards!"

The Ajoi leader lifted a silver colt revolver out form under his coat. He aimed it at Urgma's head and pulled the trigger once, spraying blood out the back of his skull. Some of the blood landed on the leader and he licked off what he could.

"We kill them."

The Ajoi barked and shouted in approval. They rode out to the port shouting and cursing. In the distance they could hear a chopper approaching their location, but by the time it reached them they would be out of site.

The Ajoi riders embarked through the tunnel that led beneath the great wall riding on horseback, motorbikes, and ATVs. Once they reached their destination on the other end of the port they opened fire on the unsuspecting PDF troops patrolling the waste disposal plant before more guards could be alerted to their presence.

A handful of men attempted a retreat to higher ground to establish an advantageous position, but they were quickly ran down under the hooves of two Ajoi clansmen. Whimpering and gasping for breath, one of the soldiers managed to fire off a shot killing a rider before being speared to death by the other. The remaining PDF troops were gunned down without mercy by the superior numbers and swift surge of the Ajoi.

“Strange.” a rider commented after their slaughter was complete. “I had expected more forces to be on patrol here.”

“That situation has been taken care of.” the leader responded. “Tiber’s encampment is a two hour ride north east. We must move now if we are to take him!”

Amarth was average height for a Alroni of northern Corellius. Though he did not match the size of his Phalanxi brothers there was a burning intensity constantly fueled behind the veil of his dark eyes. He moved gracefully as if an acrobat dancing on a tight rope for a circus crowd, dodging and weaving attacks by his several opponents in the competition. One of his attackers moved in quickly with a thrust of a ceremonial Phalanxi blade, but Amarth fluidly somersaulted over his opponent and delivered a thrust of his own with a small dagger. The blade met his attacker in the rear of the neck, dropping him to the ground in a gurgle of blood that spat out from his mouth.

“Effective.” Kraft complimented of Amarth’s skills to Valias and Goldar. “He moves with emotion, as if driven by something more than the code.”

“His parents were killed by foreigners.” Goldar replied flatly. “And his brother took his own life to escape the grief. This has fed him with a thirst for omnipotence. He swore a blood oath never to fail in his personal quest to destroy any who present a threat to that which he most reveres.”

“And that is?” Valis questioned curiously and a bit skeptical.

“You. Of course.”

Valias clapped his hands in approval of Amarth’s skill as he neutralized another threat, smiling confidently as he watched the fighter continue to dominate the fighting area. He glanced over momentarily to Kraft who was shifting around in his seat anxiously, and noticed that he was not the only one casting the military executor a stalking gaze.

“Is there a problem, Holden?” Pesch asked curiously. “Surely a blood thirsty savage like yourself would be reveling in this display of brutality.”

Kraft decided not to challenge the comment with a hostile statement of his own, but instead sighed with discontent waving his head from side to side in disapproval.

“I actually find this too tame if anything, and wait eagerly for the real fun to begin. I’ve seen this warrior’s true skill, and I guarantee that the show will only improve.”
The conversation continued with several snide remarks between the rivals while Valias eagerly waited for his chosen champion’s victory. Neither of them seemed aware that in the distance a pack of wild thugs were encroaching on the encampment with murderous intentions burning in their blackened hearts.

The Ajoi rode swiftly into the Phalanx perimeter. Perched on a tree, a lone assassin eliminated two Phalanx guards silently using a crossbow weapon. The arrow penetrated an opening in the guard’s armor between the neck and lower skull, spilling blood onto the emerald grass. With the two guard’s eliminated several other Ajoi moved in behind the vanguard assassin.

On the other side of the camp, a similar event was taking place. Two Phalanx guard’s were caught unaware by an Ajoi rogue’s noose. The rope was conveniently placed around the two guard’s necks and pulled up the moment the rogue jumped down from his position. The noose worked like a pulley, dragging the guard’s up into the air and crushing their bones under the pressure. Silently, the rogue dropped them back down and waved for his men to follow.

Once the Ajoi breached the perimeter, they placed one of their skilled assassins within line of fire with Valias. The Ajoi dragged out an old bolt action rifle and carefully loaded it with an explosive round. The Ajoi sniper pulled the bolt back and mounted himself on a sturdy branch. He took a deep breath and concentrated his aim. He placed his finger on the trigger and prepared to fire. A shot was fired that echoed through out the forest. The Ajoi assassin flinched, and another shot was fired. He pulled the trigger of his own weapon, but by now Valias had been pulled from his seat and protected by a number of bodyguards.

“Neukin!” the Ajoi rider cursed. He tossed away his rifle and leapt from his position down onto his horse below. The Ajoi had been made, and his mission had ended in failure. The only thing that would come of remaining here was certain death. While his comrades fought valiantly against their opponents, he rode off freely into the distance.

The Phalanx defenders of Lorkhan were at an extreme disadvantage. The Ajoi assassins numbered over forty and they had the clearing completely surrounded. On open flat ground the Phalanx had little cover to rely on, and they were on foot while their enemies rode on horseback and quad bikes.

“The torches!” Goldar shouted to his men. “Use them to light the grass. The smoke will make it difficult for them to see, and the flames will scare the horses.”

Four of the guard’s grabbed two torches each and began lighting the ground around them. A wall of fire began building around the Phalanx, warding off several of them as Goldar had promised.

“Get the Nasier to the main tent. You know your duties!” he demanded of four others who already had their leader surrounded and flanked by massive shields that deflected several arrows and bullets. “Where is Amarth?”

The chosen defender of the Grand Nasier moved at a speed that was almost humanly impossible. A man aimed a pistol at him and fired, but Amarth had leapt into the air and used a tree to catapult him into a somersault behind the shooter. The man did not even have time to think to turn around before Amarth’s saber connected with his neck, decapitating the would-be killer.

Another Ajoi ran to avenge his fallen comrade with a large hatchet, but Amarth ducked under his blow and pressed his shield up into his attacker’s chest. He pushed himself up in the same motion and flung his attacker into the air. As the man flew above Amarth, the Phalanx warrior brought his blade up into an arc cutting open the attacker’s flesh in a straight line from his neck down to his pelvis. His guts spilled out over the grass as he slammed hard into the ground.

“TRAITORS!” Amarth shouted fiercely. He charged into a group of several more Ajoi assassins who were firing on the entourage of Valias as they hurried their way to the main tent. He came upon them like a feirce bolt of lighting, quickly and destructively tearing through their flesh with his blade. A bullet from an AK-47 tore through his right shoulder dropping him to one knee with a groan of pain. The attacker from across the clearing lowered his aim to fire another shot at Amarth’s head, but the Phalanx warrior had already retrieved one of the nearby pistols from the assassins he had just butchered. He fired the weapon five times, dropping his attacker with the well placed shots.

Once Tiber Valias had been secured in the main tent, the Phalanx had prepared their counter-attack on the approaching assassins. The Phalanx perimeter network had by now been alerted and rushed to engage the threat while Goldar and Kraft led the Phalanx from within, forming a wall outside the main tent using torn planks from the other tents and barrels for cover.

“These men have soiled sacred ground.” Kraft shouted, firing wide sprays from a DC-22 assault shotgun. “This is the land of Thor’s chosen, and they shall see their own blood spill to appease the gods for their injustice. Thor demands it!”

Their was a shout of approval from several of the Phalanx warriors as many charged into the clearing, pushing the Ajoi closer and closer toward Kraft and Goldar’s suppressing fire. Lady Pesch, meanwhile, looked at Kraft with skepticism. His encouragement lacked complete genuity, and Pesch knew that something was amiss. It was a thought that would have to wait until later to contemplate. She ducked out from her cover, firing her weapon off with a short burst. For now she would have to handle this threat to her lord and to her self and she prayed to the gods that she would.

By now the Ajoi riders had lost the most crucial element in their attack. The element of surprise. One of the assassins had made a critical error, alerting the Phalanx to their presence before the sniper could finish off the Grand Nasier. Now the battle was a combination of trying to get to the leader of Lorkhan, and fighting for survival.

“Where are our calvary fighters?!” the Ajoi leader barked to his lieutenant who had thrown himself behind a rock and was wildly firing his AK-47 over the side. “We will need them to rush that tent.”

“We lost most of them in the initial attack.” the lieutenant responded to his commander. “The horses were frightened by the flames, and they retreated back into the Phalanx perimeter. There are Phalanx snipers in the surrounding trees. They must be picking off everyone else.”

The leader made the risk of poking his head out from behind the rock that he too was concealed behind. He assessed the land between him and the main tent where the Phalanx were held up. He turned back toward the woodland behind him, and he saw that the Phalanx guard were heading off anyone who attempted a retreat. In the center of the clearing, a sole warrior was making quick work of many of the Ajoi assassins.

“Damn it Kraft!” the leader shouted. “We need to make a run for the tent. We’ll have just as much luck bringing the fight to them as we do sitting here waiting to be hit from behind. Inform all of our remaining men to make a run for it. Instruct them not to harm Kraft. There’s no point in this suicide mission if there’s no reward! ”

The Ajoi clan chief re-loaded his revolver and made sure his shotgun was fully loaded. He loosened the clip on his kabar knife’s sheathe and attached the bladed weapon to the end of his rifle.

“Charge!” the rider shouted.

The Ajoi assassins charged the Phalanx defenses with renewed zeal and vigor. Down to just below twenty, the Ajoi were no longer a force that outnumbered their opponents. Their only advantage now was the basic animal instinct to fight or die.

“Fuck!” Kraft shouted as the Ajoi penetrated their defense. Several Phalanx warriors moved in to engage the rush, meeting their opponents with swords in the bloody close quartered combat. “Call in those riders Goldar. Do it before…”

A slug from one of the Ajoi assassins knocked Kraft off his feet to the ground. The blow was not mortal, but dangerous enough to knock the wind out of his lungs and keep him incapacitated. A Phalanx guard grabbed him by his arm and pulled him into the tent as Goldar ordered his men to push back and defend their leader.

Amarth watched as the Ajoi rush moved in on the tent. He had conquered most of the foes who had now laid dead or dying in the burning clearing, and left the scraps to be picked off by the reinforcements. An Ajoi assassin followed the rush into the tent from behind, barking orders and firing his weapon off randomly. He noted that he was the leader and Amarth retrieved his sword from the heart of a dead soldier and hurried to defend Valias.

Within the tent, the battle had grown into an all out melee match. Fixed bayonets and Phalanx ceremonial weapons met with the scratch of steel on steel, occasionally meeting the flesh and bone of the wielder’s mark. Refusing to watch his men fight and die for him, Valias grabbed a short sword and entered the fight beside Pesch who was using a unique form of martial arts native to her clan to fend off her attackers. An Ajoi attacker took the opportunity to deliver a strike to Valias with a spear, but Amarth’s scimitar met with the spear and tore it’s tip off. He brought the blade up in and around the man’s defense, striking the would-be assassin across the neck.

“Thank you…” Valias gratefully complimented his hand, knowing that he surely owed his life to the warrior.

The battle continued for about a minute before the Ajoi assassins were down to one. The leader who had led the attack was beaten and bloodied, with sweat pouring down his face into his eyes and heavy beard. The Phalanx moved in to eliminate him, but Valias held up his hand and motioned for them to halt.

“This man has come here to take my life.” Valias stated matter-of-factly to his audience. “Surely he knows now that he will die as his men have, but what respectable opponent would allow him to slip from his mortal coil without giving him the opportunity he sought to trade his life for?”

The Phalanx cheered in admiration and agreement with their leader.

“Tell me before I take your life warrior, what is your name?” Valias requested of him as he slid a weapon over to the Ajoi leader.

“Karjuk.” the leader stated coldly. “You are a fool to face me Tiber.”

“Stop speaking. FIGHT!” Valias demanded as he brought his sword down on the warrior. The fighter repelled the attack with a quick parry, and attempted a thrust of his own. Valias arched his body to the side dodging the attack, and brought his blade down and then up in a quick succession of strikes each met by Karjuk’s blade.

“Good form.” Valias complimented the fighter. He arched his blade up to deliver a downward blow on Karjuk, and the attack was blocked by the Ajoi’s sword. Valias grinned satisfactorily and delivered a heavy knee strike into the rider’s stomach. “But you forget your sword is not your only weapon.”

Air escaped the fighter’s lungs as Valias brought his blade across the fighter’s hands, removing them from their limbs. The sword fell to the ground and rattled shortly, but it’s sound was dwarfed by the agonizing scream of Karjuk.

The recovered Kraft looked at the man disapprovingly. Karjuk’s eyes quickly glanced over to Kraft, searching for some sort of support. He found none. He knew that he could tell Valias now the deal that he and Kraft had previously arranged, and whether or not Valias believed him he still would have left a mark against the military executor. Unlike Kraft however; Karjuk remembered the strict code of honor that he was raised on. He promised to keep quiet about the pact. With the final blow that removed his head from his shoulders, Karjuk took his secret to the grave.

The last Ajoi riders had been run off or slain by the Phalanx support. There would be no treasure or reward given to them, and within a day Lorkhan would bombard their encampments along the boarder as a message to stay out of their territory.

In the distance the Ajoi sniper looked on the towers of flame that burned in the clearing. He watched through his scope as Valias and his entourage dragged the bodies out of the tent and tossed them into the pillars of fire.

"Klappa." the sniper whispered to himself as he pulled the trigger on his weapon. There was no thundering roar of a projectile exiting it's chamber, or flee of panic and distress that would come with a sniper hitting his mark. There wasn't even a round loaded into the weapon. The assassin gave himself a reassuring nod. Today he could've killed a king, but then again there's always tomorrow to start a war.


[FIN]