pawnstorm | WAR ♞ MARCH ON CENTRAL WEST PLATEAU

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WAR ♞ MARCH ON CENTRAL WEST PLATEAU

MARCH ON CENTRAL WEST PLATEAU
20 AUGUST (GLADIA) 2016

The quiet, seemingly unremarkable town of Friedgood doesn't seem like a prime target for a Noir attack. Ask any outsider what a Friedgood local's favorite activity might be, and they’ll likely respond "I don't know, digging?" They're not wrong: Friedgood's primary industry comes from the excavation of precious stones and minerals in the nearby mountain ranges and volcanoes. Those who don't make their living from mining most likely still enjoy digging, as the town is a hot destination for archeologists from the school of Pigeonsblood looking to uncover the ancient secrets of Gammon.

More important than shiny rocks, however, is Friedgood's strategic location within the country, specifically the checkpoint known as Platform 42 and 5/8ths. It forms a stark contrast to the sleepy town it resides in. This bustling travel hub is known as the "Gateway to Gammon", and boasts fast transport to almost anywhere in the kingdom. Security is tight here, with grim-faced Gammon soldiers working around the clock to ensure that criminal activity doesn't stand a chance. Keep your contraband at home — an infraction will cost you heavy jail time. Friedgood is also the only town with a road providing access to Grantebrycge, Gammon's illustrious University town.

By conquering Friedgood, Noir hopes for universal access to all of Gammon.

On the 20th of Gladia, amidst strong winds and persistent thunderstorms, Heroes will arrive to the Central West Plateau. Even surrounded by tall mountain ranges and ominous volcanoes, its ancient wall is truly a daunting sight. A marvel even by modern construction standards, it was built over 300 years ago to defend against hostile nomadic tribes, and remains as strong and sturdy as the day it was built. It also provides an important environmental buffer to the people of Friedgood — the wall is resistant to lava.

Basic info on the war can be found here. All OOC questions about the event may be directed to the thread below.

ONE ♙ The War of Three Armies
It’s time to head to the battle, Hero. You may be walking, riding a mount - your own, or a borrowed spider or boar - or hitching a ride from someone else. It’s a miserable trek to the plateau, but at least you’re not alone. Once you arrive, Verdoni is there to greet you, accompanied by another Gammonian, the commander of this battle.

Pinta
[ so god damned salty about not being a naval tactician and assigned to ships ] Ah, yes, the vaunted Heroes I’ve heard so much about. The name is Pinta, ah... naval tactician to Gammon’s armed forces. Ask why and I’ll show you a bloody hell. Anyway, welcome to the Central West Plateau! During ancient times, the volcanoes were said to be a wall of flame that protected Gammon. But if that stopped the Othellians, I suppose I wouldn’t be here, ahaha! Now, with them dormant, we must instead rely upon our steel and our wall. It’s strong enough to protect Gammon even if every volcano in the area were to erupt all at once! At least that’s what the locals say. They didn’t sound too dodgy, but... moving on!

If you have any questions, our men will be glad to explain; show you how the cannons work, where the traps are and whatnot. Again, this really isn’t my expertise—oh! Our wizards have been creative as of late. We’ve these wind platforms that will fling those Noirs up, up, up! Into the air! Try not to get caught in them, yeah?

Our navy will take care of our seas. They’re an outstanding lot, they are. All we need to do is focus! Gammon shall not sink here!

You’ll then be handed a magical bracelet. The miners use it protect them from toxic air, so this is a precaution; should you need it, it should last for the duration of the battle. Now all you have to do is wait and prepare for the battle. Acquaint yourself with the battleground: explore the Defense Wall and see what traps there are. It may give you some ideas of your own. There are also war cannons aligned on the top wall and within its interior. Otherwise, check your supplies or rest and collect yourself for what will come. Your mount may also want attention.

TWO ♙ Fellowship of the Bling
Initially cloaked by thick fumes of sulfur, ozone and the dreary overcast of the storm, the Noir battalion finally arrives. Their general, Spicy Spice, steps, nay, struts forward.

	Why is it that every time I come around, that Cochrane Bridge wants to go down? [ ADJUSTS HER WORLD CUP BRA ] They can’t keep that wall up forever.
Let’s make this a quick one, so we can get out of this smelly rain! [ gets ready to fire her gun in the air when she remembers something ] And don’t forget, target their puny pathetic healers, first. [ raises gun high above her head, signaling for the attack with a BANG! ]

On her cue, the Noir Vanguard rushes forward with a fearsome war cry, followed soon after by the Rearguard.

ENEMY ♟ Mounted Noir Soldier
Weak against None	Strong against Fire	Immune to None
These soldiers gallop onto the battlefield with their imposing GOLDHORN GOAT mounts. These are bigger and stronger than the average goat, and their golden horns tend to ABSORB SPELLS directed at their riders. Some spells in a soldier’s arsenal: GRISTRELKI sets fire to the rain — literally. It converts the rain in the sky into a barrage of fireballs. Pray your umbrella’s fireproof! With the PLAMEVODA spell, they can turn hot water (i.e. those from geysers) into bubbling hot lava. When combined with a strong cooling spell, the spell can trap you in rock… That is, if the lava doesn’t kill you first! DVIZHE SMERTI is a dangerous spell that paralyzes its target, rendering them unable to even speak or blink. This can be cured with mana exchange. Hurry before Noir strikes with a rain of fire!Of course, the soldiers are capable of HEALING SPELLS to assist their injured allies and mounts. The VANGUARD is lead by an impressive wall of massive shield units, armed with various melee weapons: swords, maces, and daunting battle axes. Herd them into the traps around the battlefield to render them immobile! The REARGUARD, armed with bows and arrows, will try to overwhelm the HEROIC VANGUARD. HEROIC DEFENSE back them up with long-ranged attacks and the cannons! If they get close enough to the wall, the Rearguard will relentlessly attack the Defense! Both units are under strict orders to prioritize an attack on the HEROIC SUPPORT. If they see any Hero or Gammonian soldiers helping each other or performing rescues on the battlefield, they will give chase IMMEDIATELY. DROPS: Shield with Noir Emblem, Flame Staff, Assorted Non-Magical Weapons, Golden Goat Horns, Lava Lamp

In the heat of battle, you will feel the ground beneath you shake and tremble. In a turn of events neither side could have predicted, a dormant volcano in the distance erupts, raining down fire and scorched earth on the area. More alarming, however, is how the resulting earthquake sets off powerful, white-hot geysers on the battlefield. Stay alert! To make matters worse, the approaching lava makes Noir’s fire spells even more deadly, and Noir shows no signs of letting up on their assault.

Spicy Spice
You think a little bad weather is going to stop us? Don't make me laugh. [ laughs anyway, then falls into a coughing fit ] Urghh, damn these fumes — Oh whatever, Send in the riders!

THREE ♙ The Desolation of Noir
Undeterred by the eruptions, the geysers, or the bad weather, they’ve called in their aerial units, fierce griffon riders who’re trying to fly over the wall and into Friedgood. Don’t let them pass! Make use of your resources and shoot them down: Heroes with long ranged weapons or magic will find their skills useful here. Learned how to fire a cannon? Now’s your chance! If not, protect your allies, Hero and Gammonian, as they line up their shots.

ENEMY ♟ Noir Griffon Rider
Weak against None	Strong against Fire, Lightning	Immune to Wind
For the first time, Heroes will witness firsthand how Noir’s legendary griffon riders—often called masters of the skies—live up to their name. A griffon’s powerful wings not only lets them soar at great heights; they can whip up terrifying BEAMS OF LIGHTNING. Griffon riders are armed with JAVELINS which they can also throw and cast the same spells as their counterparts on land. However, they share a closer bond with their griffon mounts. Upon losing their master, the griffons will go BERSERK and proceed to kill everything in sight. If a Hero gets caught in a griffon’s talons, the creature will drop them into their boiling demise at either a GEYSER or VOLCANO. DROPS: Mount Treats, Riding Gloves, Noir Lance, Harness, Griffon Feathers, Griffon Talon

The lava is fast approaching and Noir can no longer take the heat. The griffon riders are maintaining their assault, but the rest of their army is falling back to escape. Time for you to retreat too before Gammonian soldiers seal the wall and you’re trapped on the plateau side. Fried Heroes ain’t Fried Good.

Defense, continue shooting at any enemy target in range! Be attentive and aid your allies as they retreat back to the wall. Do not fear, you have the advantage.
Vanguard, fall back! Watch the skies for any griffon riders on the way to the wall. Once you arrive, take down enemies who try to breach. Letting even one enemy pass could spell disaster.
Support, grab the wounded and check the wall’s condition! Any damages should be repaired immediately to prevent the lava from entering Friedgood.

FOUR ♙ There and Back Again
The wall closes, sealing the lava and ending the battle. Hopefully no one got left behind.

Spicy Spice
Now I'm wishing that I didn't wear these shoes (I hate heels). Better get up out my face! [ trips on her way out ] Oh shit!

Catch your breath, Hero. You won. First, check up on everyone and heal your wounds. If you borrowed a mount you might want to take the time to say farewell, since the trip back to Friedgood means you’ll be parting soon.

The people of Friedgood are grateful. They know what would have happened if you lost. There’s no time for fancy parties. They’re pulling out whatever they can find for a makeshift street party right then and there.

You can find bowls of Splotched Richard - a dessert pudding - and Bangers and Mash. If you’re in the mood for something strong you can get pints of Guileless or Pale Noir, maybe a Lasker Train Bomb if you can find someone who’s willing to mix it. Or perhaps you fancy a CreamAle, the favored drink of Grantebrycge.

You’re welcome to stay out and party as long as you like - the party is for you, after all! In fact, the people will respect you more if you get drunk and pass out on the side of the street. But for Heroes who’re tired from the war, you’re always welcome to stagger into the Bollox Inn for a room, free of charge.

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[ Damen sees it happen, as though from a distance, despite their nearness. He sees the beautiful angle of Laurent's jaw as he bends to collect his meal, the damp curl of blond on the nape of his neck. As is not unusual when faced with the force of Laurent, Damianos feels outmaneuvered and at a loss to how he arrived there. Hello, lover. ]

I'm not sure what some of those are. [ He says, and moves away. He is aware of where Laurent is like a thread stretched between them. ] But I've been assured none of them are poison.

[ When he disappears into the washing room, he stops. There, laid evenly over the back of the chair, a second set of clothing for himself. It wouldn't seem so out of place, if Damen weren't acutely aware of how out of place they were like this. He removes his dirty, ruined clothing, and goes to the bath. ]

[Damen's awareness is a thread that lengthens because it is tied on two ends. Laurent takes his expression out of sight but he can't remove his attention so easily. He has hated this man. He has hated him so much that the thought of killing him was the only thing that had sustained him through his youth- through the hands he passed through. If only it were still so simple.

This conversational gambit is not meant to assuage his doubts about poison in the food- it is a declaration of his intent to stay. To refuse to be dismissed. Laurent looks into the empty hearth when Damen steps into the bath, when he does not close the door behind him. He continues looking until he evens out the fracture in his expression, and then sets about starting a fire.

By the time Damen emerges it is the second time that Laurent will have carefully eaten one half of what was brought up on the board, and he will be found sitting on the provided chair, examining the state of his jacket. He doesn't want to lift his head when Damen enters, but he does nonetheless.]

[ The tableau is similar in ways, striking Damen for it's familiarity. The bedding hasn't been pulled to the floor and the decorations are sleek, different from the inn they'd stayed at in the Veretian countryside. Half the food sits uneaten on the cheeseboard. Laurent doesn't know whether or not Damen has eaten.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, the deep wine of his gifted shirt hangs loose over his broad chest. The bruises linger, but are harder to see with the flush to his skin from the bath. The room is warmer, with the hearthfire lit. He meets Laurent's eyes, and then goes to sit on the edge of the bed. It sinks under his weight. The firelight flickers off the gold collar on his throat. ]

They don't last long. [ The clothing, he means. For all this world's technological advancements, Damen feels what they wore back in their own world stood the test of time much better. ]

Truly unfortunate, as I fear your shirt cost a banquet hall its only tablecloth.

[Like a performer recognizing their cue to dance, Laurent does not miss a beat, nor does he appear to struggle in placing himself there. The tease is offered as he is removing the last buttons to have survived- joining their fellows in the small pile he has amassed on the table at his right. It is no attractive or deliberate sprawl he rests in now, nor is it the almost boyish pose he'd been caught in so many months ago. Instead, one leg is crossed casually over the other, bare foot dangling near the fire and savoring its warmth. Already the proximity has dried most of his hair.]

[ He watches what Laurent does more than he lets his eyes linger on the graceful line of his throat, or the flaxen quality of his drying hair. This peace between them is tenuous. It is less that Damen feels it could snap at any time, and more that in some way the uncertain way they move around one another in solitude retains a conditional quality to it.

Too much still sits heavy between them. Damen knows that his want is not one sided, but he does not know how to navigate this thing that keeps them separated— as untouchable as air, as obvious as the sun in the sky. ]

I'm not the only man my size here.

[ Damen has seen a number of men that come to his height, which was surprising at first, as even by Akielon standards he is very large. ]

No you are not, though you may be the only one not to return to Caissa shirtless.

[This is, like every other play that has gone between them, a matter of steps. They're engaged in a dance of sorts, one they'd entered on the field of Marlas and one they hadn't left since. Laurent knows, even at this distance, what the outcome will be.

Perhaps he is only delaying the inevitable.

Laurent's gaze moves because it has nothing further to distract itself with, and because Damen is there looking back at him. His inhale is measured, it is precisely equal to the exhale that follows.]

I had wanted to ask, what was your last memory before arriving here?

[ The easy breath gives him away. Damen can tell he is bracing himself for the conversation to come, and feels some part of him prepare in kind. Not a defensiveness, exactly, but a measure of caution. Once he speaks, Damen understands his hesitancy.

He had been operating under the understanding that they shared their memory of their world. It hadn't occurred to him that, like so many others, there might be some discrepancy between what they each remembered. His caution shifts, easing into anticipation. Damen doesn't look away from his face. ]

I remember the okton.

[A beat. Laurent watches the whole of Damen's expression as though it is a book written in a language he is committing to memory. Calculated. Cautious.]

The spears?

[ Damen has the curious sensation of being on a precipice, and of being watched closely for the result. The latter is much more literal, given the calculating way Laurent studies his expression. He returns the look without flinching, but makes no effort to shutter anything that might show there. Laurent clarifies The spears? and Damen is reminded of Nikandro's fury at discovering his back. ]

You surprised everyone.

[ Even Damen. ]

Yes, well.

[It has been there since arrival, this knot of tension that Laurent has considered- has turned over and examined and carefully monitored. The possibility of their differences, of what it would mean to keep more secrets from this man. There is no great sigh of relief. Instead it's something quiet- the way his gaze moves to one side, the gentle exhale.]

You had set your expectations so low that it was impossible not to trip over them.

[ For all Damen can understand the machinations of Laurent's mind, he's far from any kind of mind reader. He doesn't know everything about this prince— much of his history remains a mystery, and exactly how far reaching his delicate web reaches is not something Damen can follow. Even outside of his own territory, Damen knows he is already sowing his seeds. Laurent thinks in ways Damen can't comprehend, because he didn't grow up learning to survive in the way Laurent did.

But he sees the relief for what it is. He feels it mirrored in his own body, tension unspooling. He doesn't stop to wonder what would have happened if their memories hadn't matched up— Damen isn't sure what he would have done in that situation. ]

It's not like that. [ He returns. ] I knew how well you could ride.

[ It was just that riding well and riding the okton weren't exactly synonymous. More surprising for Damen had been that Laurent had agreed at all, and he feels himself smiling faintly at the memory. ]

[The fire crackles comfortably, sound and warmth filling the space between them with the intimacy that Laurent has always struggled to foster between them. He gestures towards the cheese platter, the meticulously delineated half that has been left for Damen himself before his hands fold back over themselves. It isn't a defensive posture and instead is nearer a gesture of containment. It wouldn't be the first time he found himself attempting composure in Damen's presence.]

But Akielos knows the nature of what passed between us. [One brow flicks upward, gaze sweeping the whole of Damen's figure.] They know their King, thus they must also know how well I could ride.

[ Damen feels himself blush at the suggestion, less embarrassed and more a slow sweep of pleasure. Since Marlas, Laurent has done nothing but use their intimacy as some kind of defense, a weapon against allowing Damen to come close to him in even the most remote sense. He doesn't look at Laurent's carefully contained hands because he's caught by the edges of his mouth and the molten blue of his eyes.

Not for the first time, the rushing urge to kiss him ebbs and flows under Damen's skin. He misses that easiness, the camaraderie, the softness he'd seen on Laurent's face— a side of him nobody else was privy to. It's strange, trying to navigate this space that is neither cruelly defensive nor the comfort of spending late evenings together in deep discussion. ]

Probably [ He offers, ] they expected that to do more with my own talent than yours.

[It would be too simple to call this defensiveness, and even a single day spent in Laurent's company would illuminate the fallacy in the idea. Laurent takes to offense and he does so carefully, with deadly accuracy. The only difference here is that he is not striking with the intention to kill- only to provoke. In that way, it is almost a conversation.

In the firelight, Laurent's hair has dried and a flush of warmth colors the milk of his skin. His head tilts to the side by the smallest degree.]

It is custom in Akielos to praise the mount for the rider's skill?

[ Damen's eyes narrow just a fraction, bemused. It is mostly a conversation, but in some part, Damen still feels like he is navigating the thorns of a rosebush. Despite the warmth of the hearth and the slight cock to Laurent's head, he is still ready for the sting— just brashly unafraid of it. When you give a man your loyalty, your faith in him is unswerving. ]

We've been over this. [ You fucked like a virgin. Damen deliberately changes course: ] I think you enjoyed yourself during the okton. [ His gaze lingers, then, on the flush of Laurent's cheeks and the dry curl of his hair. How he would have loved to see him in Eos, without all of this, where he might have watched Damen learning to ride it the first time. A show for the visiting royals of Akielon prowess. ] It's always been one of my favourite sports. Never has someone kept up with me the way you do.

[The moment that fondness creeps in along the edges of Damen's expression the differences between them could not be more evident. King Damianos had been a man to respect and admire and fear even in his boyhood, if it could be called that, when he lead armies of men and stepped away from the carnage at Marlas a champion among his people. Of course he could entertain wistful possibilities. It would cost him nothing to turn the idea over in his mind, what it might have been like for them to meet outside of "all of this," outside of slavery and betrayal and manipulation and deceit. Laurent cannot quite take that step. For him there is only what was, and now what is. The things he has lost will not come back, and where Damianos would find pleasure in fantasy, that was not the hand that had reached for Laurent to comfort him in his grief.]

It was not quite what I had expected.

I suppose you might say that same in regards to the outcome. You did not think me capable.

No.

[ There's no urgency in his voice to deny Laurent's claim— only an easy rebuttal. Damen can't always follow the labyrinth of Laurent's mind, but he has long come to learn his careful walls and his manner of guard. He has told Damen that he is nothing like what he expected and Damen can sympathize— Laurent, too, had been much more than he though the prince to be. ]

I've never thought that of you.

I know what you thought of me.

[This is the opportunity for sentimentality- for gentleness or a fond sharing of thoughts and memories. The trouble is that there are so few of those things to be had in the first place, especially between the two of them.]

I cultivated it. I am it.

[ Damen watches him steadily with heavy eyes. Laurent manipulated him, had known who he was since they met. He had tried to kill him, and then sought to navigate him into a corner with Nikandros and Ios as leverage. All of this was fact, but— the feelings between them were true. Even Laurent could not have designed that. ]

What I thought of you and what I know you to be now are not the same.

[ He reaches over, pressing his fingers against Laurent's fine-bred wrist, where gold would rest had they kept their cuffs. It is a chaste, brief thing— intimate for it's sweetness. ]

I should let you rest.

[It's an idealistic sentiment- too sweet for everything that has passed between them. Even now, with Damen's fingers on the narrow bone of his wrist, Laurent thinks not long ago I wanted to kill you. He is too aware of the texture of Damen's fingertips beneath the fabric of his sleeve, of his own pulse under that touch.

Laurent looks at Damen's face, head tilted back to meet his gaze in the scant inches between them. The word is so quiet that he barely hears himself speak it.]

Stay.

[ There is hardly any space between them. Mere inches. Damen can see the exact shape of his eyelashes, each delicate strand spun like gold. It would be so simple to lean in and press their lips together, with Laurent's molten eyes and the softened shape of his mouth. Damen's thumb smooths gently over Laurent's rabbit pulse, voice soft. ]

Okay.

[Damianos murmurs to him in the he way Laurent had soothed horses- he recognizes the timbre and the touch. They are standing on a precipice he doesn't want to describe, because the moment he does, everything will change.

But they are already changing. It is in the air between their breaths and in the hand Damen has not removed and the gentle shackle Laurent has not shaken off. In light of all of this- the kiss that follows is inevitable.

[ What makes this different is that Damen cannot tell which of them initiates. Before this moment, it had been him. Not, he knows, because Laurent did not want it but because Laurent's struggle with himself could not permit it. He remembers the way he had tipped his head up on the balcony, how Damen had sought to make his size and his kiss not a threat but an invitation. It is not so different now.

It is not a rush of passion. Damen doesn't feel flooded away by the charge of it. His eyes are closed, somehow, before their lips even touch and he inhales when they do. Laurent smells like the bath and like fire-warm skin and Damen has had many lovers, but nothing even comes close to this. He raises his fingers from Laurent's wrist to sweetly touch the sharp angle of his chin. ]

[It is so tender. Damianos doesn't yield beneath him nor does he surge forward- there is no declaration of ownership in the shape of his mouth and the is no demand that Laurent soften, surrender, shrink. He can taste Damen's breath, and then, there is the touch to his chin.

Laurent's eyes close, fingers lighting on the arch of Damen's biceps, but he seems to linger there- some small part of him held just out of reach even with his face held in the curve of Damen's hands.]

Edited 2016-09-20 06:00 (UTC)

[ For all that's complicated between them, kissing Laurent is simple. Damen does not need to parse words, or pick his way between each barb the prince erects defensively around himself. Here, there are only physical and emotional walls— not things to be torn down, but to be breached through honesty. As a true Akielon, this is not something Damen has difficulty with.

He opens his mouth without demand, wets Laurent's lips just enough to give him permission and coax in equal pars. Laurent's fingers on his biceps are both anchors and moats, and Damen brings both hands up to cradle his high born jawline.

A kingdom, or this.
Damen is no longer sure he can choose between them both. ]

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