Sands of Blood RP
- 主题发起人 The Mercenary
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Amman d Stazia
Master Knight
we can always skip a day of hot and dusty travelling and find ourselves in deepest darkest Arabia.....
Boomie
Knight at Arms
Hey guys, don't know if you remember me but I was supposed to post this "goodbye" post months ago, confirming the death of my character (Giuseppe) since I was too lazy to continue his trek inside Acre. Feel free to consider it non-canon, I just thought I'd share this.
"Genoan!" one of the crossbowmen called through the parade of soldiers entering the camp.
"Genoan!" said another crossbowman, also calling out.
"Maybe he did not make it?" asked another crossbowman, as the three of them huddled on a corner to discuss Giuseppe's whereabouts, and to avoid being trampled by the parade of soldiers exiting Acre.
"Shut up," said the first, denying anything of it. "The Genoan is a strong soldier, he is said to have gone three straight days without rest or food running from Seljuk cavalry in the desert. He ended the chase himself with shots from his crossbow! If we could survive something as trivial as a siege, even in Acre, the Genoan can survive, he did survive."
Suddenly, a knight called from somewhere behind them. "You three!" the knight said, pointing at them with a heavily armoured hand. "Who is your Captain?"
"An Italian, sir, Giuseppe Antonio di Faido," answered the second crossbowman.
"Ah, yes," the knight said, lowering his hand. "I know him, you are part of his company, yes?"
"Yes sir," all three of them answered.
"You are good men then, I hear he saved King Richard and Knight Ivanhoe from death along with, of course, some other soldiers." They couldn't help but notice the Knight's Germanic accent put a large emphasis on the word "other". "Well then, when you find him, tell him to report to King Richard's tent, he himself wishes to speak with the Italian who saved their lives."
"Yes sir."
The three crossbowmen stood there, silently, watching the parade grow thinner as the camp began to fill up with exhausted soldiers.
"Maybe he was left inside?" said the third, "there were thousands of us, I'm sure he's not alone being left inside there." The other two pondered this for a moment, as they continued to watch the now thin line of soldiers entering the camp.
One of the soldiers, German from the way he looked, stopped and stared at the walls of Acre. He tapped his companion on the shoulder and pointed at the wall. The companion exclaimed, and then, many others started staring at the wall. The three Italians looked with curiosity, only to find a most gruesome sight.
On the walls were different soldiers on crucifixes, all of them obviously alive, and screaming. Muslim soldiers were whipping some of them to add to the pain. The crossbowmen counted ten men on crucifixes, all of them wearing different uniforms, Italian uniforms. The first crossbowman pointed to the man in the middle, wearing a Genoan uniform.
"Giuseppe!" all three of them exclaimed, and the third Italian fell down on his knees on the warm Arabian sand. It was an inescapable truth, from the features and the garments, Giuseppe was obvious to notice. On his right shoulder was an open wound, the arrow wound Giuseppe received, which only confirmed their fears. "No!" The Muslims had brought a banner, which had Arabic writing, and hoisted it beside Giuseppe.
"Here lies your finest heroes, infidels. All of them have fallen, and so shall you." said one of the people behind them, who obviously was able to read Arabic. "The one in the Genoan clothing, he is Giuseppe! Giuseppe Antonio, the man who tracks the forests of Helvetia for weeks with little food and water, Giuseppe who was able to run from Antioch to Tripoli without rest! How has he fallen? How?"
"Does it matter?" said the second Italian, "the next time we enter Acre, I will kill every last Muslim inside for doing this. This sacrilege to Christianity, to nature! They will suffer for this."
"Will they?" said the third, who was still on his knees. Behind the squirming body of Giuseppe, a Muslim had whipped him. Giuseppe's body flexed at the pain, but made no sound. Only a second later, however, his weakened body let out a blood-curdling scream that could be heard from the camp. Giuseppe's last act of defiance. His body struggled under the pressure, under the pain. And then, the third Italian practically stood up at the sight. "A miracle!"
Giuseppe's body was squirming under the pressure of the nails on his limbs, his left hand could be seen struggling with the nail, as he himself continually screamed in agony that all eyes were on the Genoan, even of those crucified beside him. Moments later, the hand was free from the cross, and he raised it, still screaming, in defiance. The Muslims who had planted the banner virtually ran from fear as he, with the help of his left hand, now struggled with his right. His left hand was on his right wrist, which he continually aided in being free of the crucifix. Muslims had arrived moments later near the crucified crossbowmen, but they stopped short of the first crucifix as they saw Giuseppe continually struggle with the all the elements of nature, as he struggled with the impossible odds, to free his right hand from the pain.
One Muslim had come up to the Italian, without fear, and looked him right in the eyes. Giuseppe stopped struggling, but he kept his left hand on his right wrist, which was bleeding profusely. The Muslim had pointed to the others, who then ran back off the wall, and he then went to the side, as Giuseppe continued his struggle with the cross. After a short moment, his right hand was free, and his body fell, and he supported himself on the edge of the wall with his bloody hands as his new struggle was to remove his feet from the cross.
A shorter moment later, and his feet were free. From all the impossibilities, Giuseppe stood his ground, his hands limp and his head staring downward. All of the other soldiers on the crucifixes were staring at him. Giuseppe seemed to make no effort to try and escape, only all effort was seen to be to stand, as he was seen shaking slightly now and then. The Muslims had returned, carrying a couple of crossbows and swords, visible from the distance. The Muslim grabbed a crossbow and a sabre from the pile, and gave it to Giuseppe, who took them both, strapping on his sabre before unsheathing it. His crossbow he strapped to his back, making it visible even from this distance. Giuseppe stabbed the edge of the wall with his sabre, balancing himself with it. The Muslim had unsheathed his own sabre, and mouthed something inaudible to Giuseppe. Giuseppe merely nodded, and stared into the distance.
The Muslim stabbed him, the sabre visibly shooting through the centre of Giuseppe's chest. Giuseppe let out another blood-curdling scream, this time louder and with more force. All his remaining energy, spent on balancing himself and screaming into the distance. His head suddenly went back to staring at the floor, as the Muslim withdrew his sabre. Blood was seen slowly trickling on the sabre used to steady himself. His body continued standing, steadied by the blade stabbed onto the stone. His crossbow was visible from the distance, protruding from his back in a noble fashion. Then, everyone knew that the great Helvetian was finally defeated in his own terms. Giuseppe was dead.
"Genoan!" said another crossbowman, also calling out.
"Maybe he did not make it?" asked another crossbowman, as the three of them huddled on a corner to discuss Giuseppe's whereabouts, and to avoid being trampled by the parade of soldiers exiting Acre.
"Shut up," said the first, denying anything of it. "The Genoan is a strong soldier, he is said to have gone three straight days without rest or food running from Seljuk cavalry in the desert. He ended the chase himself with shots from his crossbow! If we could survive something as trivial as a siege, even in Acre, the Genoan can survive, he did survive."
Suddenly, a knight called from somewhere behind them. "You three!" the knight said, pointing at them with a heavily armoured hand. "Who is your Captain?"
"An Italian, sir, Giuseppe Antonio di Faido," answered the second crossbowman.
"Ah, yes," the knight said, lowering his hand. "I know him, you are part of his company, yes?"
"Yes sir," all three of them answered.
"You are good men then, I hear he saved King Richard and Knight Ivanhoe from death along with, of course, some other soldiers." They couldn't help but notice the Knight's Germanic accent put a large emphasis on the word "other". "Well then, when you find him, tell him to report to King Richard's tent, he himself wishes to speak with the Italian who saved their lives."
"Yes sir."
The three crossbowmen stood there, silently, watching the parade grow thinner as the camp began to fill up with exhausted soldiers.
"Maybe he was left inside?" said the third, "there were thousands of us, I'm sure he's not alone being left inside there." The other two pondered this for a moment, as they continued to watch the now thin line of soldiers entering the camp.
One of the soldiers, German from the way he looked, stopped and stared at the walls of Acre. He tapped his companion on the shoulder and pointed at the wall. The companion exclaimed, and then, many others started staring at the wall. The three Italians looked with curiosity, only to find a most gruesome sight.
On the walls were different soldiers on crucifixes, all of them obviously alive, and screaming. Muslim soldiers were whipping some of them to add to the pain. The crossbowmen counted ten men on crucifixes, all of them wearing different uniforms, Italian uniforms. The first crossbowman pointed to the man in the middle, wearing a Genoan uniform.
"Giuseppe!" all three of them exclaimed, and the third Italian fell down on his knees on the warm Arabian sand. It was an inescapable truth, from the features and the garments, Giuseppe was obvious to notice. On his right shoulder was an open wound, the arrow wound Giuseppe received, which only confirmed their fears. "No!" The Muslims had brought a banner, which had Arabic writing, and hoisted it beside Giuseppe.
"Here lies your finest heroes, infidels. All of them have fallen, and so shall you." said one of the people behind them, who obviously was able to read Arabic. "The one in the Genoan clothing, he is Giuseppe! Giuseppe Antonio, the man who tracks the forests of Helvetia for weeks with little food and water, Giuseppe who was able to run from Antioch to Tripoli without rest! How has he fallen? How?"
"Does it matter?" said the second Italian, "the next time we enter Acre, I will kill every last Muslim inside for doing this. This sacrilege to Christianity, to nature! They will suffer for this."
"Will they?" said the third, who was still on his knees. Behind the squirming body of Giuseppe, a Muslim had whipped him. Giuseppe's body flexed at the pain, but made no sound. Only a second later, however, his weakened body let out a blood-curdling scream that could be heard from the camp. Giuseppe's last act of defiance. His body struggled under the pressure, under the pain. And then, the third Italian practically stood up at the sight. "A miracle!"
Giuseppe's body was squirming under the pressure of the nails on his limbs, his left hand could be seen struggling with the nail, as he himself continually screamed in agony that all eyes were on the Genoan, even of those crucified beside him. Moments later, the hand was free from the cross, and he raised it, still screaming, in defiance. The Muslims who had planted the banner virtually ran from fear as he, with the help of his left hand, now struggled with his right. His left hand was on his right wrist, which he continually aided in being free of the crucifix. Muslims had arrived moments later near the crucified crossbowmen, but they stopped short of the first crucifix as they saw Giuseppe continually struggle with the all the elements of nature, as he struggled with the impossible odds, to free his right hand from the pain.
One Muslim had come up to the Italian, without fear, and looked him right in the eyes. Giuseppe stopped struggling, but he kept his left hand on his right wrist, which was bleeding profusely. The Muslim had pointed to the others, who then ran back off the wall, and he then went to the side, as Giuseppe continued his struggle with the cross. After a short moment, his right hand was free, and his body fell, and he supported himself on the edge of the wall with his bloody hands as his new struggle was to remove his feet from the cross.
A shorter moment later, and his feet were free. From all the impossibilities, Giuseppe stood his ground, his hands limp and his head staring downward. All of the other soldiers on the crucifixes were staring at him. Giuseppe seemed to make no effort to try and escape, only all effort was seen to be to stand, as he was seen shaking slightly now and then. The Muslims had returned, carrying a couple of crossbows and swords, visible from the distance. The Muslim grabbed a crossbow and a sabre from the pile, and gave it to Giuseppe, who took them both, strapping on his sabre before unsheathing it. His crossbow he strapped to his back, making it visible even from this distance. Giuseppe stabbed the edge of the wall with his sabre, balancing himself with it. The Muslim had unsheathed his own sabre, and mouthed something inaudible to Giuseppe. Giuseppe merely nodded, and stared into the distance.
The Muslim stabbed him, the sabre visibly shooting through the centre of Giuseppe's chest. Giuseppe let out another blood-curdling scream, this time louder and with more force. All his remaining energy, spent on balancing himself and screaming into the distance. His head suddenly went back to staring at the floor, as the Muslim withdrew his sabre. Blood was seen slowly trickling on the sabre used to steady himself. His body continued standing, steadied by the blade stabbed onto the stone. His crossbow was visible from the distance, protruding from his back in a noble fashion. Then, everyone knew that the great Helvetian was finally defeated in his own terms. Giuseppe was dead.
Very nice indeed. Is it just me, or did Giuseppe suddenly get tough when we got inside Acre?
Desert: What's this? A nooby crossbowman stuck in a dry land being chased barbarians?
On track to Acre: Where's that crossbowman at? He will be useful against that enemy caravan down there.
Encamped around Acre: It appears that crossbowman has some street-smarts, and seems to have gained a form of precognition en-route to here.
Inside Acre: OMG! This crossbowmans has a lazor crossbow with uber sworsd! He's unstoppable!
Desert: What's this? A nooby crossbowman stuck in a dry land being chased barbarians?
On track to Acre: Where's that crossbowman at? He will be useful against that enemy caravan down there.
Encamped around Acre: It appears that crossbowman has some street-smarts, and seems to have gained a form of precognition en-route to here.
Inside Acre: OMG! This crossbowmans has a lazor crossbow with uber sworsd! He's unstoppable!
He got injured a lot though, I tried not to forget the human aspect of things.
The Mercenary
Grandmaster Knight
Alys is an NPC now. Or maybe Kalnia can take her. Run her like you would Richard or whatever other NPCs you come across.
Amman d Stazia
Master Knight
Oh. 
you strand us in the middle of the desert, then up and away? Sounds like.... lots of generals through history!!
for once seriously, though...
Are we going anywhere with this RP??
if we are, there's a nice ambush to spice things up a bit...
you strand us in the middle of the desert, then up and away? Sounds like.... lots of generals through history!! for once seriously, though...
Are we going anywhere with this RP??
if we are, there's a nice ambush to spice things up a bit...
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