Jump to content

The Iconar Collective (OUTDATED)


A perfectly normal question  

34 members have voted

  1. 1. Should I post the first chapter from my new draft?



Recommended Posts

Skimmed chapter 1 and decided I needed to read the whole thing, gimme half an hour :P 

But man, I wish I could finish something I write. I have almost 10 started books/stories but I can't seem to finish any of them. The closest I've gotten is my SA fanfic, whish is sitting at 2/3 done, right before the climax at a writers block. Y     A     Y.

I'll edit in thoughts after I finished reading it.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Spoiler

Chapter IX - Origin Story

Second Firelight | The plains, Ivinan

Two days on the road was nothing to scoff at, in Corrin’s opinion. His feet were worn near off his ankles by now, and he was wondering if his pack full of supplies was going to cut his arms off at the shoulders. The others were displaying signs of weariness as well; even Dain looked like he was just about ready to collapse.

That wasn’t to say that none of them were in high spirits, however. Iolar and Quarden were having another argument—this one about who’s spear was better—while Garnell and Corrin told Mareth stories about home. Uia had fallen back to listen to these stories, and apart from the occasional tinkle of laughter, didn’t comment on any of them. And Corrin couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure that Dain and Teren were listening as well.

“Once… I’ve told you about Corrin’s uncle Lars, right? I have,” Garnell answered himself, interrupting Mareth, “Y’know, there was this one time that he took us to a traveling fair; you know, tents, merchants, that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, I… know what a traveling fair is.” Mareth replied. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well, see, he gave us ten crescents to spend on anything we wanted.” Garnell began. “And Corrin—”

“Spent mine on normal stuff.” Corrin replied. “Like candy.”

“Yep.” Garnell replied.

“What did you do?” Mareth asked.

Garnell chuckled. “I saw this guy who told me he could double my money… and, being an idiot twelve-year-old kid, I agreed.”

“You’re still an idiot.” Iolar called. Evidently, he and Quarden had decided who’s spear was better. “Just not twelve.”

“Shut up, Iolar.” Garnell replied, smiling. “I spent my entire allowance on the guy, and I only won once, so I walked in with ten crescents—walked out with one.”

Mareth blinked. “It sounds like you’re missing a gag line there.”

Garnell shrugged. “It was funnier back when it first happened. Corrin! Why don’t you tell Mareth something funny.”

“Me? Funny?” Corrin shook his head. “Those two words don’t belong together.”

“What you just said right there was funny.” Quarden countered. He sounded a little half-hearted; had the verdict been in favor of Iolar’s spear, perhaps?

“Nah, I don’t have any stories.” Corrin said. “At least, none that would be entertaining.” He glanced ahead at Dain and Teren. “What about you two? Do you guys have anything?”

Dain looked over his shoulder at Corrin. “Nothing you would want to hear. Would you like me to drone on and on about tactical positioning, unIdeal squadron organization, and ranking issues?”

Corrin shook his head. “Yeah, no. What about you, Teren?”

“Me?” He asked, sounded genuinely surprised. “I don’t have many. I grew up, worked, played, and trained in the Enclave. It may sound interesting to you, but after a point, the army becomes incredibly boring.” He glanced back at Corrin. “But I don’t think you are devoid of stories, Corrin. That was fire Arcana you used on Dain a couple days ago; you went to the Academy?”

“Well… yes.” Corrin sighed.

“You don’t sound particularly… fond of those memories.” Teren noted.

“That would be because I’m not.”

“Well, then, go on, Corrin.” Mareth said.

“We’ll tell your ours if you tell us yours!” Quarden added.

“Tell me what?”

Iolar shrugged. “What do you call them… origin stories? We’ll tell you our origin stories if you tell us yours.”

“Yeah.” Mareth agreed. “Though mine isn’t very entertaining.”

“Well… alright, then.” Corrin thought back to his past. “I was born in Draycott, and my parents died when I was about two or so. I don’t remember them, so… I’ve moved past that. I was raised by my uncle Lars, an ex-soldier in the Enclave.

“I met Garnell when I was five or six.” Corrin continued, gesturing to Garnell. “We grew up together.”

“Like brothers!” Garnell added. “Brothers with differen—”

“Yes.” Iolar inturrupted. “We heard. Corrin?”

“I went to the Arcane Academy when I was fourteen.” Corrin said. “I had never tried magic before, but I have a magilex.” He tapped the shoulder of his right arm. “Long story short, I failed. Badly.”

“Not that badly.” Mareth protested. “That was real fire Arcana we saw you doing against Dain.”

“That was a weak sputter of flame that was more smoke than fire—and it was actually better than most I did at the Academy.”

“Okay. Maybe it was pretty bad.”

“And then three years later, I joined the Enclave.” Corrin concluded.

“Wait.” Quarden interrupted. “Three years after that? So you’re—”

“Seventeen.” Corrin replied. “I’m seventeen.”

“Really?” Uia asked, surprising just about everyone. “You’re… quite mature for your age.” Realizing he had drawn a few stares, he blushed a little and looked down to his feet.

“What about you, Uia?” Corrin asked. “Where do you come from?”

“Um… me?” Uia asked, voice tightening. “I went to the Arcane Academy; like you. That… that’s all.”

Corrin didn’t press him. “What about you, Kent?”

The horseless cavalier spun about on his heel, surprised. “What? Me? What about me?”

“Where do you come from?” Corrin asked. “What did you do before you came to the Enclave?”

“I was a farmer.” Kent replied, a little rushed. “I joined the Enclave so I wouldn’t have to be drafted into the royal army. I brought my horse with me—biggest gamble I’ve ever done—and became a cavalier.”

“I was traveling circus man.” John said in a thick accent before Corrin could ask or reply to Kent. “Strong man.” He flexed his muscles. “Very strong man.”

Corrin blinked. “Okay.”

Garnell chuckled behind him. “John likes his muscles.”

“Very strong man.” John repeated.

Corrin turned to the twins. “What about you guys?”

“Well,” Iolar began, “our parents were middle-class artisans. Bookbinders. Because of that, they avoided getting drafted into the Royal Army. We were born and raised in Ivinan City, plenty of money to go around, full stomachs every night.”

“When we got old enough, though, we wanted to start a business of our own.” Quarden continued. “So we started a bookstore. Our parents’ bookbinding business became a kind of a sister company; we sold whatever they gave us, and whatever we gave them, they fixed.”

“So then what happened?” Corrin asked.

“Then we got bored.” Iolar replied. “Started looking for something more interesting to do with our lives. We turned to the Silverclad Enclave, hoping to make a difference in the world.”

“We gave our bookstore to our parents and a few family friends to take care of. It’s in good hands until we come back.”

“And when do you plan to come back?” Corrin asked them.

Quarden shrugged. “When we get homesick enough? Not sure. We don’t plan that far ahead.”

“Or if we get bored of killing demons.” Iolar pointed out. “And want to go back to the excitement of a mercantile livelihood.”

“Huh.” Corrin said, then turned to Mareth. “What about you, Mare?”

“Did you seriously just call me Mare?” Mareth asked. “You do realize that that’s a girl name.”

“Yes, I know.” Corrin replied. “Don’t you have a nickname?”

“I did, once.” Mareth admitted. “When I was a kid. Our parents caught us saying it, though, and shot it down it immediately. I only now know what it was and what it meant.”

“Eth?” Corrin asked.

“Close.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s great, Mareth.”

“Yup. Is that all you want to hear, or are you going to ask me to share my life as well?”

“Your life as well, if you don’t mind.”

“I do, but whatever.” He cleared his throat. “I was actually born and raised under a noble house, but don’t tell anybody. It wasn’t a particularly wealthy or influential house, but a noble house regardless.”

“Why can’t I tell anyone?” Corrin asked.

“Because nobles who join the Enclave get an automatic promotion. I would’ve become a striker by default.”

“So you were being noble?” Corrin said, then winced and chuckled.

“I hate you. Also, no, I wasn’t doing it because I thought it was unfair or anything. I joined secretly because strikers have positions of responsibility within a squadron, and I didn’t know anything about tactics or strategy.”

“Dain’s the one who does the strategizing, though.” Corrin replied. “Or the Regent Knight, if it’s a larger assault.”

“Yeah, but us strikers have to be the ones who carry those orders out.” Mareth countered. “The best way to learn how to lead is to fight; experience, not rank, builds a leader.”

Ahead of them, Dain nodded in agreement. It was an unconscious nod, though, and it looked as though he was lost in thought; a memory, perhaps?

Carefully, Corrin began to prod him. “Dain? What’s your story?”

Everyone, soldiers and strikers alike, looked up at Dain. Their eyes showed anticipation and hope, but behind those looks their eyes knew what was to become of Corrin’s question. Teren turned to Dain, his own look questioning; whatever it was that was in Dain’s past, Teren knew about it when no one else did.

Dain turned his head to the right, eyes closed. The hope in the the soldiers’ and strikers’ eyes brightened, silently begging him to go on.

Then, Dain turned forward again, not so much as a sound leaving his mouth. Some of the strikers sighed, and the soldiers returned to their hushed conversations. 

Garnell shrugged. “Aye, Rin. Dain hasn’t told anybody who he is or where he comes from. Best not to dwell on it.”

The rest of the journey was scarcely quiet, but not a word came from Dain.

 

 


 

Their journey was finished by Waterlight.

The rains poured down on Dain’s squadron, but when the first of them had seen lights in the distance, nothing could deter them. The soldiers on guard at Camp Thunder stood at attention as they marched triumphantly through the gate, and the camp’s Knight stood prim and proper, hands clasped in a businesslike fashion over his waist. He seemed completely unaware of the rain, with his deep brown hair plastered to his face and a stream of water dripping off his chin.

Despite the fact that the squadron was supposed to be walking quietly and properly in ranks, Corrin couldn’t help but gape at the sheer size of Camp Thunder. Buildings of Arcane earth, rather than tents, stood in rows beside each other, each complementing the last with what it had to offer. Supply buildings were placed between smithies and dining halls, while the armories were flanked by the barracks. Here and there, artillery towers dwarfed the smaller buildings, where bored-looking archers stared out into the nothingness of the night.

Within the barracks, the flickering light of fire and the laughs of soldiers who hadn’t the good sense to be asleep right now traveled through partly ajar doors and uncovered windows. Ahead of them, a large plume of smoke trailed up into the air, marking the place of a massive bonfire too large to be diffused by the rain. Oil lanterns, torches, and fires from the barracks lit the stone-and-dirt pathways along which the squadron marched.

“Greetings, Dain.” The Knight said, stirring Corrin from his thoughts. “I take it your recruitment run was successful?”

“That it was.” Dain replied, gesturing to Corrin.

The Knight frowned, then walked to Corrin and began to examine him. “Are you sure he was worth the trouble?”

“Well worth it.” Dain assured him. “Already, I imagine he could best half the soldiers here in a duel.”

The Knight looked back at Corrin. “Well, then. Hopefully in time, he’ll be able to best all the soldiers here in a duel.” He cleared his throat, facing the entire squadron. “I suspect that you men are tired from your travels. You can take Barrack Nine for tonight. Tomorrow…” He looked back at Corrin. “I have a special training exercise for all of you.”

On 8/2/2020 at 3:29 PM, Channelknight Fadran said:

It's here! Finally! After days of writers blocks, Chapter IX is finally here! The formatting wasn't working, though, so... bold <_<

I fixed it with my 300th post! :lol:

Edited by Enter a username
I somehow used a quote instead of a spoiler
Link to comment
Share on other sites

25 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

Are you the one who gave me five notifications in twenty seconds because your upvoted half my posts here?

No. Though you did steal quite a bit of my upvotes :D 

First off: WOW that's good. Definitely better than anything I've written- mine doesn't even come close. The worldbuilding is so thought out, the characters are thought out, everything is intentional. Needless to say, I am now following this thread.

And this:

Quote

fourseason-six, every day of the year?

made me laugh very hard. So thanks for that :P 

Edited by Matrim's Dice
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 8/5/2020 at 4:02 PM, Matrim's Dice said:

No. Though you did steal quite a bit of my upvotes :D 

First off: WOW that's good. Definitely better than anything I've written- mine doesn't even come close. The worldbuilding is so thought out, the characters are thought out, everything is intentional. Needless to say, I am now following this thread.

And this:

made me laugh very hard. So thanks for that :P 

I'm so glad you like it! I've only been working on it for three years, so...

On 8/5/2020 at 4:04 PM, Enter a username said:

That may have been me

Dang it, Enter (but thank you so much).

Edit: FYI, I might not post here for awhile, because as much as I love having an audience, I can't very well have you guys read through my entire book as I write it before it even comes out. What I'm going to do is blast through a few chapters, and then post things periodically but at a much slower rate. There will be a point at which I'll probably stop posting chapters entirely, but that's a long way off, so don't start marking your calendars.

Don't die!

~ Fadran

Edited by Channelknight Fadran
To quote Vapor, "Flame On!"
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Alright, it's been over two weeks since I've posted here. I've hit an annoying writer's block on the least writer's blockiest chapter ever (how did I get blocked on a fight scene?), so I guess I'll share this one that I've been holding onto:

Spoiler

Chapter X - Fire Arcana
First Earthlight | The Arcane Academy
  

    “Settle down, everyone!” Geniora called out. When the hundred-some students didn’t quiet themselves, Geniora glared in their general direction. “I said SETTLE DOWN!”
    Slowly, the massive courtyard full of students became more silent. Eventually, not one conversation still lingered in the air, to which Geniora smiled. “Thank you. Now, all of you have come to this place for one reason: to learn Arcana, the magic of the elements. Can anyone list all four elements?”
    Nearly every hand shot up into the air, Aurora and Lacy’s included. They sat beneath a tree, near the back of the crowd. When neither of them were selected, their hands both dropped back into their laps.
    “Well, there’s fire, water, earth, and air,” one boy said, “like the Dayseasons.”
    “Precisely. Thank you. Of course, those are only the four essential elements. There is also gravity and time, but many mages—most, in fact—don’t ever learn those two in their lifetime, even if they become Highmasters. Similarly, none of you need to worry about them at all until you become a Master Mage, which is a long time coming besides.
    “Anyways, you might have noticed that I have been joined by three other Master mages here today.” Geniora gestured to another woman and two men standing behind her. “Usually, these Masters would be teaching high-level students today, but they’ve all agreed to begin your instruction of the basics of Arcana in order to provide those students a much-needed day of rest. Today, you will cycle through our four classes of essential Arcana, where we will introduce you to the bare basics of magic. Also, we will introduce you to Particle theory, but I don’t imagine you’ll pick up on that today.
    “I will pass around today’s schedule shortly. Each class will occur several times during the day, and I heavily implore you to attend each one at least once. I also encourage those of you who have only recently arrived,” her eyes seemed to flicker towards Aurora and Lacy, “to spend their free time familiarizing themselves with the Academy. That is all.”
    Up ahead, Geniora placed a large stack of papers into a boy’s hand—probably the delivery boy, Minshyl—and had him start passing them around. By the time a pile of papers had reached the back of the group, Geniora and the other mages had left to their respective classrooms.
    Aurora took one before Lacy did, but she hadn’t read through the entire thing before the younger girl did. The schedule basically placed every class during every period, so it seemed simple enough to be able to take all the classes as well as a few others with time to spare. Aurora made to pose a question, but Lacy beat her to it.
    “So do you want to take all the same classes?” Lacy asked.
    “Will we get that privilege when we start taking real classes?” Aurora asked in return. “Or do they give us assigned schedules?”
    “Well, if they do, then all the more reason to stick together now, while we still can, right?” Lacy skimmed over the schedule again. “I wanna go to fire first, with… Professor Eldon.”
    “Sure.” Aurora replied. “Second Earthlight? We have… fifteen minutes to get there.”
    “Then let’s get going!” Lacy exclaimed, then stopped. “Um… where are we going? Like, physically?”
    “Not sure.” Aurora flipped over the page, then nodded. “There’s a map on the back. Thank goodness.”
    “Then, like I said, let’s get going.” Lacy scanned the map for a minute, then pointed off towards one of the many exits from the courtyard. “To fire class!”

    It turned out that Lacy had direct them the wrong way to Professor Eldon’s fire Arcana class, so they only barely made it in time. Eldon looked as though he was just about to speak, but when they entered, he stopped himself. He was most definitely human, with broad shoulders and curly brown hair. He had been wearing a smile on their face before they entered, which had transformed into a kindly look of concern as he watched them seat themselves. A playful, almost mischievous, glimmer sparkled in his eyes.
    “Alright!” Professor Eldon said. “Who wants to throw around some fireballs?”
    His remarks were followed by a few scattered laughs, but he looked undeterred. “No, I’m serious. Today you’re going to throw around some fireballs. That’s why you’re here and that’s what I’m going to teach you.” He smiled, then began to grind his hands together. Without warning, he tore them apart, and a flash of light followed by the sound of oil lighting aflame heralded a ball of fire hovering several inches above the professor’s outstretched fingers.
    A girl rose her hand.
    “Yes?” Eldon asked.
    “Sir, is it really safe for us to be doing that on our first day?” The girl asked. “What about Arcane theory, and study?”
    “Fire isn’t something you read about, miss. Fire is something you do.” He continued looking at her. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to read about fire rather than conjure an orb of flame to cast about at will?”
    “Of course not, sir,” she replied, “I was just curious.”
    “And there’s nothing wrong with curiosity.” Eldon said. “It is understandable that one might think that fire Arcana is study before practice, but just as one must be able to play the instrument before they can write the music, one must be able to conjure fire before they learn how to use it. Eventually, Arcane theory of fire must be learnt to perform complex actions with the flame. At a point, study becomes as important as practice; more so, even. Until then, however—” he rubbed his hands together again, this time out of anticipation rather than to summon flame, “who would like to go first?”
    Lacy’s hand immediately shot up into air, eyes pleading. Several others followed her, and before Aurora could raise her own, Eldon had already chosen someone—a half-elven boy like themselves sitting near the front. The boy pumped his fist when Eldon chose him, nearly tripping over a bench in his impatience to come up before the class.
    Beside Aurora, Lacy’s shoulders slumped. “Dang it.” The blonde half-elf said.
    “Alright!” The boy said once he reached the front of the classroom. “How do I…” He splayed his fingers and made an explosion noise in the back of his throat, to which the professor chuckled.
    “I’m afraid that before I tell you how to do anything,” Eldon said, “you are going to need to know a few key things about fire Arcana.”
    “But you said—”
    “I said that we won’t be reading or studying right now. I am, however, still going to instruct you.”
    “Then what did you need me for?” The boy asked.
    “Well, I had to hook you guys somehow. You can go take a seat until I actually need you.”
    The boy sighed, then took a seat on an empty bench along the wall. Once he had seated himself, Eldon cleared his throat and began to teach.
    “Fire Arcana is a fascinating art, and while I am technically legally required to say that, it is true. However, before you can understand the art, you have to understand the tools; in this case, fire itself.
    “Fire is a living, breathing, and consuming element. Once started, it is difficult to stop, and can be dangerous to anyone foolish enough to disrespect it. To create a fire, you require three things,” he held up three fingers, dropping each one in turn as he listed off the requirements, “heat, fuel, and air. The first of those three—heat—is directly tied to the second—fuel. There are several kinds of fuels you can use to create a fire. Wood, oil, paper; all of them work, but they are all different.
    “When it comes to lighting something on fire, one needs to provide enough heat to reach an object’s flash point—a fancy term that means the temperature at which something burns. For oil this is incredibly low. For stone, this is incredibly high. Right now, you needn’t concern yourself with this, but do take it into consideration, because it will matter later.
    “Air isn’t generally something you need to concern yourself about, because there’s plenty of it everywhere. However, it may, on occasion, be an important factor, if you find yourself in a small room or underwater—or both, if you’re unlucky enough. But enough talk of how fire works, and more on how to summon it.”
    He began rubbing his hands together again. “What I’m doing right now is creating heat. Usually, I wouldn’t have to do this, but because we’re inside, the Dayseason suns and moons can’t provide warmth for us; at least, not in large amounts. In any case, I’ve provided the first of the three conditions for fire. I already have plenty of air around here, so the last thing I need is…” a ball of flame appeared, hoving over his hand, “some fuel.”
    Several hands made their way into the air, but Eldon gestured them back down. “Don’t worry, I know what you’re asking. You’re wondering what I’m using for my fuel, correct?”
    The question was followed by a series of nods from the students, to which Eldon continued. “Very well. How many of you know about Particle Theory, Icara Compounds, and Faiden Clusters?”
    The room fell quiet, until a single hand rose into the air.
    “Yes, mister, ah…?”
    “Charles.” He replied. “Charles Frain. Perhaps you’d know me by my father, Lord Frain, from the Silverclad Enclave?”
    “The Military is outside my area of expertise. I teach fire Arcana, not Enclave ranks. Now, you say you know about Particle Theory?”
    “Well, as I’m sure everybody here knows, everything is made up of tiny particles, called Icons and Ranos. When these combine, they create Icaras, which are the smallest stable particles in the Iconar Collective. These create Icara Compounds, which are the basis of everything. Groups of Compounds of the same kind are called Faiden Clusters.”
    “Very good.” Eldon said. “That is, indeed, the basics of Particle Theory—”
    “That’s not all I know.” Charles interrupted.
    Eldon paused. “I’m sure your knowledge on the subject is very impressive, but we haven’t the time for that.”
    “Of course you don’t. We do, after all, have to give everyone a chance to try out fire Arcana, correct? Because this is a free and unprejudiced school, for everyone.” He seemed annoyed by that. “See, my father could afford me an education, unlike some people.”
    Next to Aurora, Lacy rose to her feet, glaring at Charles. Aurora pulled her down by the sleeve, but found a pit of anger boiling within herself as well. To this, Charles shot them a smug grin.
    “Ah, so here we have a couple poor orphan children. Let me guess; you worked super hard to get to this school, and everyone told you that it doesn’t matter whether you’re poor or not, because everyone’s special. You know, back where I come from, vermin aren’t allowed on school grounds.”
    “Mister Frain!” Eldon yelled. “That’s enough. Sit down and shut up this instant. I’ll not have you insulting other students, in my classroom or anywhere else.”
    Charles obeyed Eldon’s commands without a word, but kept his smug grin on his face and his eyes on Lacy. Behind the self-assured air and grin, however, there was an inkling of something else hiding behind his eyes.
    “Don’t listen to him, Lacy.” Aurora whispered to her. “He’s just a spoiled rich kid.” Beneath her soft words was a seething anger, though.
    Professor Eldon cleared his throat. “Anyways… the fuel for my fire is a certain Icara Compound called Spirit. This Compound, when Clustered, creates the very essence of our being: our soul.”
    “So you’re using your soul?” Aurora asked, the words leaping from her mouth before she even thought of them. “You’re using your soul as fuel for your fire?”
    “Precisely.” Eldon replied. “Because, you see, one’s soul doesn’t have to be connected to their bodies. It can be just about anywhere, but it’s still your soul. That’s how all magic works; you create a bond between your soul and the object you’re trying to control. Creating this bond is called Forging, and once created, we call it a Spirit Bond. What I did when I created this fire was Forge a Spirit Bond to the heat from my hands, then used my own spirit energy to give fuel to the flame.”
    “That’s awesome.” Lacy whispered.
    “There’s a few other things that the basic Bond can do, such as control the temperature. Because your Spirit is your own, you can control the heat at which it must be to burn; you create your own flash point. I doubt that any of you have the knowledge or experience, however, to create any flame hotter than a cup of warm water, but in time you will learn to create actually dangerous flames.” He pointed to the boy he had selected earlier. “Alright, son. Care to give it a go?”
    The boy sprang to his feet, nodding excitedly. He stood up before the class, a slight spring in his knees as he impatiently waited for his instructions.
    “Alright.” Eldon said. “So to connect your Spirit to the flame, you need to first connect your mind to your Spirit. To do this, you must detach yourself from the material and ascend into the ethereal.”
    The boy frowned, looking confused, to which Eldon laughed. “By which I mean try to clear your mind. Try not to have a bunch of distractions in your head. Got it? Good. Now, create some heat.”
    The boy began to rub his hands together, making a loud swish-swish-swish noise as he tried to create heat. As he did so, Eldon continued to instruct him. “Once you’ve got enough heat, focus very hard on it. Give the heat some of your Spirit to feed on, and imagine a cool flickering flame hovering over your hand. You think you got that?”
    He nodded, eyes screwed tight in concentration. After a few moments of rubbing, he brought his hands apart, and a loud pop rang out. A small flash of light appeared, but no flame followed.
    Opening his eyes, the boy sighed at a tiny, flameless plume of smoke rising from his hand. Eldon patted him encouragingly on the back, gesturing for him to sit down. “No worries. You’ll get it in time; that actually wasn’t bad for your first try. Who would like to go next?”
    Once again, Lacy’s hand had sprung into the air before Aurora had even processed the words Eldon had said. Once again, Eldon chose someone else before her.
    “Mind devoid of distractions,” he reminded the tall, intimidating girl, “keep your mind clear—oh, not bad.” He nodded at the large-ish plume of smoke that had followed almost half a second of flame. “Not bad at all. Who’s next?”
    The class continued as such, each student coming up and attempting to summon fire in turn. Every time he asked who was next, Lacy’s had shot up into the air, quick as lightning, and every time he chose someone else, resulting in a shoulder-slumped disappointment or a frustrated growl.
    By the time that it came farther from First Earthlight and closer to Second, there were only a few students who hadn’t had a chance to try their Arcana; Aurora included. She, however, was chosen next by Eldon. She could’ve sworn, though, that his eyes swept over Lacy and briefly considered her instead—as if rather than not seeing her, he was avoiding her.
    As Lacy’s hand dropped back into her lap, Aurora got to her feet, making her way to the front of the class. She was suddenly aware of the many people watching her—the many eyes waiting for something amazing to happen, including the bully boy’s, Charles. He hadn’t done particularly well himself when it was his turn to try summoning fire, but he hadn’t seemed the least bit fazed when it didn’t.
    “Alright, you’ve heard the instructions,” Eldon said, “give it a shot.”
    Aurora took a breath, then closed her eyes and began rubbing them together. After just a few seconds of grinding together her palms, friction began to create heat, and the sharp tang of warmth brought the sight of fire to her mind.
    Forge a… Spirit Bond. She reminded herself. How do I do that?
    She was once again aware of everyone watching her. How long had she been rubbing her hands together? Was she looking like a fool?
    Just do it!
    She pushed her mind into the heat of her hands, picturing an orb of flame erupting from her palms. With a loud clap, she tore her hands apart, and pulled open her eyes to see…
    A tiny, almost infeasible plume of smoke. She’d seen more smoke from children holding magnifying glasses to leaves. Had she even summoned anything?
    Eldon patted her on the back, then leaned in and said in a low voice, “you’re not the fire Arcana type. I could tell the moment you walked in. You’re more of a water/earth kind of person.”
    She didn’t know whether to respond or not, but Eldon didn’t wait for her to decide. He leaned back out, gesturing her back into her seat, only a handful of students left to call on. Eyes followed her down as she walked to her table; why wouldn’t they? She had probably produced the worst ‘flame’ out of anyone in the class.
    When she sat down, Lacy nudged her reassuringly in the arm, then nearly smacked her in the face with the same arm as her hand shot up into the air as Eldon made to call on the next student. It wasn’t Lacy.
    Not much longer than a minute later, Eldon checked an hourglass sitting on his desk. “Well, would you look at that? Alright, everyone, pack up and get going; you don’t want to miss your next class.”
    “Wait!” Lacy yelped, hurting Aurora’s ear. “Wait, I didn’t get a turn.”
    “Ah, yes. Terribly sorry. Perhaps tomorrow—”
    “I don’t want to wait that long! Just…” She climbed to her feet, then practically marched to the front of the classroom, determination in her eyes above all else. Eldon’s face showed concern as she did so, but behind the tightly-knit eyebrows and tapping fingers, Aurora could’ve sworn she saw a hint of amusement—triumph, even.
    When Lacy reached the front of the classroom, she began grinding her hands together so hard that Aurora began to unconsciously worry that she might rub through her own skin. The various students, each in varying degrees of readiness to leave, watched her warily. Aurora could read hundreds of thoughts through their eyes: boredom, hope, regret, dubiousness. They were all waiting for a result, but few expected anything extraordinary.
    Then, with a massive flash of light and a loud bang, Lacy brought her hands apart, a mighty burning sound vibrating through the air. A collective gasp from the classroom—Aurora’s included—punctuated the burst of flame that emerged from Lacy’s hand. When the blonde twelve-year-old girl opened her eyes, her breath caught at the dancing tongue of flame hovering inches from her palm. It didn’t remain for long, but by the time it had burned out, a massive mushroom cloud of smoke covered a neat portion of the ceiling.
    After a moment of silence, someone began to applaud. The rest of the class, Aurora as well, followed suit. Lacy blushed a little, but before she could return to Aurora, Professor Eldon tugged her sleeve and whispered something in her ear; something that made her smile.
    By the time the applause had ended and the students began to leave for their next class, Lacy was back with Aurora, excitedly describing the experience.
    “It was just like… rubbing my hands, and then it was hot, and I was like hey, that’s fire-hot kind of hot, and then… boom!” She splayed her fingers, grinning like a madman and giggling between words. “That wasn’t very descriptive, but Icona it was awesome!”
    “What did Eldon tell you?” Aurora asked after Lacy calmed down a little.
    “Oh? He said he was avoiding me because he wanted to see if I had enough… what did he call it… will to just get up and do it myself. Says that I’ve got a very fiery personality, and that’s why I’m so good at it.” She giggled again. “Sorry, I… don’t mean to brag, but just fire. I created fire! With my mind!”
    Aurora smiled. “Glad you found a talent.”
    “A talent, sure.” Said a voice Aurora had been hoping wouldn’t speak up. Charles Frain, the know-it-all from earlier, shouldered a large, expensive-looking backpack. “You know, it doesn’t matter whether you’re so special or not. You’re still just a pair of poor, worthless street urchins.”
    Lacy’s grin faded, and was then replaced by a glare. Aurora grabbed her arm, leading her away from the Noble’s son before she could try summoning a fireball again; this time with a target.
    “Don’t let him ruin your special moment.” Aurora said. “Just calm down. You got it! You got it on your first day!”
    “We’re probably never going to get rid of him.” Lacy replied. “That’s just the way the world works when it comes to us.”
    “You might be right,” Aurora admitted, “but don’t let that hurt you for one moment, okay?”
    “Okay, mom.” Lacy said with an exaggerated sarcastic undertone, then softened her voice. “Yeah, okay, Aurora. I won’t let him get to me, but if you want to be protecting me, then I want to be able to protect you.”
    Aurora, caught off-guard by that last comment, hesitated before saying, “alright. You can protect me.”
    “I swear on Ivinan I’ll protect you if you protect me.”
    Aurora smiled. “Well… this isn’t going to get us to our next class. Let’s get going.”
    “Right. Let’s go.”
 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ivinan.jpeg

I love this, it's actually rad!! (But why are there umlauts over most of the vowels?? I dunno if that's a thing in that land, but when you put an umlaut over a vowel, you sort of push your lips out as you speak ish [it changes the sound]) Also I've really liked your story, it is very intriguing. (i've only read part of the first chapter, but heck yeah boi)

Edited by KyL
Link to comment
Share on other sites

37 minutes ago, KyL said:

I love this, it's actually rad!! (But why are there umlauts over most of the vowels?? I dunno if that's a thing in that land, but when you put an umlaut over a vowel, you sort of push your lips out as you speak ish [it changes the sound]) Also I've really liked your story, it is very intriguing. (i've only read part of the first chapter, but heck yeah boi)

The umlauts are just aesthetic choice. Glad you like my story!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

5 hours ago, Vapor said:

I NEED MORE :P

Chapter XI! I finally finished it! Finally!

Spoiler

Chapter XI - Training Session

First Earthlight | Camp Thunder

Corrin nervously twirled his blade between his fingers. It was not the one he had brought from Camp Ember back when he was first equipping; this one was dulled, and rounded at the edge. Similarly, Dain and Mareth checked over their training blades, Iolar and Quarden over their spears, and Garnell, his axe. Teren had taken a quiver of blunted arrows; not deadly, but probably a horrible pain to be hit with. Beside the spearmen, the cavalier Kent sat astride a horse, a false lance in his hand and a similar javelin at his side. John was outfitting himself in a suit of heavy plate, and Uia skitted about from soldier to soldier, making sure they were nice and dry.

“You alright, Corrin?” Dain asked. “Looking a little pale.”

“I’m just not sure about my first training session being… a mock battle.” He twirled his blade a little faster, rounded tip against the ground, pommel in his palm. “What about formations training, or technique?”

“Well, as I understand it, you studied tactics outside of the Enclave, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess I did—”

“And you’ve already proven that you’re quite a formidable swordsman, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“What do you think he’s worried about, Dain?” Garnell interjected. “You can’t very well send a wide-eyed recruit against a rain of arrows and expect him to understand exactly what he’s doing. Remember me? Mareth? These two hopeless spearboys?” He gestured to the twins.

Dain shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned back to Corrin. “How about some last-minute advice, then?”

“Sure.” Corrin replied.

“The best advice I can give you is to be decisive. Freezing up on the battlefield could very well be the end of you. I don’t care whether you choose to throw yourself at the enemy or dive behind a rock, if you’re not standing, defenses wide-open, in front of a demon with a spear, then by Icona just do it.”

Corrin hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, then. What’s the plan?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to have one, yet.” Dain replied. “Somewhere out in that wide, open field—” He gestured to the plains, “another squadron has set up a temporary camp, and we have to find it and kill it.”

“We win if we grab their banner,” Mareth added, “and get it back out again.”

“Like one-way capture the flag.” Garnell said.

“Once the bell rings,” Dain gestured at Camp Thunder, which stood to their backs, “we’ll have until second Earthlight to find them, take the banner, and win our right to not muck out the stables. According to the rules, we aren’t supposed to begin reconnaissance until the bell rings.”

“Two hours to find the camp, create a strategy, break through their defenses, and take their banner?” Corrin asked. “That sounds a little ludicrous.”

Garnell laughed. “Ah, Corrin. Rule-abiding as always. We already found their camp, and we already have a strategy.”

He looked up, shocked. “What? But the rules—”

“Are less rules, and more of guidelines.” Dain interrupted. “In reality, there’s nobody telling us when we can or can’t search for an enemy encampment, or start strategizing, which is why last night I sent out Iolar and Quarden to distract the guards—”

“And distract him we did,” Iolar added proudly.

“While Teren snuck out and found their camp; as well as their defenses.”

“And those are?”

Teren cleared his throat, then began sketching in the dirt with an arrow. After a few seconds, he had already created a makeshift map: A rough circle for the walls, crosses for the soldiers, two lines for the gate. He also added a few outer lines, explaining (however briefly) that they represented walls.

Once Teren had finished his drawing, he stepped back, and Dain began laying out a strategy. “Alright, so they have a good fifteen-some soldiers in total, over half of them on guard duty. The banner is probably located somewhere inside the camp proper,” he poked a dot in the middle of the circle, “which would probably be guarded by the remaining soldiers. They’ve created several outer walls, with only a few feet of an opening between them.”

“So it’s a bottleneck method?” Corrin asked. “We can’t push forward unless we go through one of the openings. We’re playing on their turf.”

Dain pointed at him. “Exactly. However, we have a secret weapon.”

“And that is?”

Behind Corrin, a loud, heavily-accented voice sighed. “I hate being shield.”

Dain shot John an apologetic look. “Listen, John, we talked about this. Heavy-armorers draw fire. You make a distraction, they shoot you with arrows, you survive said arrows, and we sneak through the other side to have at them.”

“I still hate.”

“Isn’t that a little… obvious?” Corrin asked. “Wars aren’t exactly fought with numbers, but if we only threw the one heavy-armored unit at them, then they’ll know something’s up.”

Dain cracked a smile. “I think you’d make a good captain. You’re right, of course; we can’t very well send everyone at the back of the fort and expect them to be surprised… and we also can’t very well leave John alone to fend for himself.”

“That’s where we come in.” Garnell replied. “Us Strikers.”

“So… what, four groups?” Corrin asked. “Four groups of three or so? We might as well travel in pairs for all the good that’ll do us.”

“We won’t be assaulting the camp proper that way,” Dain reassured him, “we’ll just split up until we’ve reached the innermost outer wall.” He tapped the closest line to the circle. “We travel through these walls separately to thin out their fire, because there only so many arrows six men, most of them not even Archer class, can throw at us.”
“Once we get close, we group up again.” Garnell said. “And we break through.”

“Through the gates?” Corrin asked. “And charge headfirst into a wall of spears?”

“Not exactly.” Dain tapped the side of the circle. “We’re going to break through the wall here, instead.”

“How—” Corrin was cut off by Garnell shushing the others. There was obviously some secret they were hiding from him. “Okay, then. After we get in, what’s the plan?”

“Well, by then, we’ll have a line of spears set up just in case they come charging out. If they freeze, we take initiative and attack.” Dain pointed at Corrin, then thumbed to himself. “You, Mareth, Garnell, me, we take them out and grab the banner. Iolar and Quarden hold the retreat line, John helps us flank them, Kent causes chaos—”

“Horses are really good at causing chaos,” Kent affirms.

“Then we capture the flag and get out.”

Corrin clapped his hands together. “Alright. What are we waiting for then?”

In the distance, a bell rang.

Dain thumbed back at Camp Thunder. “That. Let’s get cracking, boys.”

 

 

“You know, when we got back at Camp Thunder, I thought that we were done walking.” Corrin said.

 

 

The squadron was hiking up a hill, the chill of early morning still crisp in the air. The Earthlight sun slowly climbed towards the apex of the sky, at which the time would turn from First to Second Earthlight. Camp Thunder was a good two or three miles behind them. According to Teren, they were almost there, but Corrin thought that if they were really that close, they would’ve seen it by now.

“Well, you can’t put your camp right next to someone else’s, right?” Dain asked. “Unless you’re laying siege to someone, or something.”

“We’re almost there.” Teren repeated. “Really almost there.”

“How almost is really almost?” Garnell asked, wiping his brow. “Because—” he stopped.

“What?” Corrin clambered his way up the hillside after him, almost losing his balance twice. “What, is it—”

Beneath them, safely tucked into a small valley, a large, circular encampment surrounded by a series of Arcane earthen walls stood proudly, bearing the flag of the Silverclad Enclave for the Collective to see. Oblivious to the squadron standing not a hundred feet away from them, the bow-armed guards on the walls leaned, bored and daydreaming, against the turrets. The earthen walls sat in rows in front of the gates, far enough apart to let a few men through, but still tight enough to provide a deadly bottleneck.

Dain tugged lightly on Corirn’s sleeve, pulling him back until the camp was out of view. “We can’t be seen; at least, not yet. You guys remember the plan?”

“Split up.” Garnell began.

“Make our way forwards to the main wall.” Mareth continued.

“Meet up and… something happens?” Corrin asked.

Dain nodded. “Iolar, Quarden, you two take the spears down the right flank. Be careful not to lose anybody.”

“Yessir.” Iolar said, uncharacteristically serious-sounding.

“Mareth, lead John, Kent, and Uia down the front. Keep John in front to take the arrows, and make sure that you don’t lose our mage.”

“I hate being shield.” John muttered.

“Garnell: you, Corrin, and me head down the left. Corrin, how well do you think you can use that shield?”

“If you’re asking if I can block an arrow with it,” Corrin replied, “then no idea, but I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit. Then Teren, you stay up here. When I shoot you the signal, pick off those archers. With luck, they’ll look for you and not us; at least for a few seconds.” He turned to face the group as a whole. “Once the camp starts shouting, go. The idea is to get through those walls and fast; maximum enemy confusion to buy us time. You got that, everyone?”

The soldiers, strikers, and Corrin alike all nodded, nervously gripping their weapons.

“Alright, then.” Dain replied. “Let’s move out.”

 

 

“You feelin’ alright?” Garnell asked Corrin. “First battle, however fake, right?”

 

 

“Yeah.” Corrin replied. The Arcane earthen wall at his back was uncannily smooth. “Yeah, I’m… alright.”

Everyone had moved into position easily enough. No one from the camp had spotted them, though Dain didn’t think that the camp expected to; the squadron who had assembled the camp had traded visibility for natural defense and seclusion.

“You two ready?” Dain asked, unsheathing his sword.

Garnell unslung his axe, nodding. Corrin checked his shield strap, then pulled out his own sword, spinning it in his hand. He took a sharp breath, then nodded.

Dain nodded in return, then held up his sword against the Earthsun’s light. A reflective gleam appeared on the hill from the blade, which Dain moved into the barely recognizable shape of Teren’s head. A couple flashes, and Dain brought his sword down. Not a second later, the distant creak of Teren’s bowstring heralded a nearly indiscernible blur of his arrow, and a loud cry of pain when it struck one of the guards. Corrin winced at the cry, but he couldn’t be head over the yells that followed: the cries of guards alerting the others to the archer.

“Go!” Dain yelled, dashing down through the series of walls, Garnell close behind him. Corrin followed not a second later, but even before he could start running, shield out, another arrow from Teren zipped through the air, striking a second guard.

Not a second after they began dashing down the rows of Arcane earthen walls, a small, slightly unmanly yelp emanated from Dain. Both he and Garnell dived behind one of the walls in turn, leaving Corrin frozen between either of them, unaware of what was going on.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled. “Shield!”

In a flash of a second, Corrin registered the archer on the wall, pointing his bow right at him. He barely managed to raise his shield before the arrow flew. The blunt tip smashed into the wood of his shield, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. A few seconds later, Garnell’s massive, calloused hand grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back behind one of the walls. A moment after that, a second arrow smacked into the ground where he had been laying prone.

Corrin, with a grunt, pulled himself to his feet. “That could’ve killed me!” He exclaimed, gesturing to his shield, which had been punctured by the projectile. The arrow’s head stuck out the back end of the wood, and the shaft wobbled out the front.

“No, but it certainly would’ve hurt.” Dain replied, behind a wall parallel to their own.

Garnell did the favor of relieving the shield of the arrow, snapping the shaft and plucking the arrowhead through, leaving a small hole in the middle. He tossed the remains over his shoulder, then took a breath and hefted his axe.

“So… now what?” Corrin asked. “We wait for Teren to pick off those archers?”

“No.” Dain replied. “We keep going.”

What?” Corrin demanded, but he understood fine.

“It’s a lot more different, isn’t it?” Dain asked. “When you’re actually out in the field itself. Throwing a squadron at a wall is simple enough when you’re doing it on a map—it’s a lot different why you’re the one being thrown at it.”

Corrin took a sharp breath, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

Dain peeked around the corner, then held up three fingers, dropping them in turn. “Three… two… one… go!” He jumped out from behind the wall, dashing down the makeshift corridor, Corrin and Garnell hot on his heels. This time, they made it all the way down without any interruptions.

Dain pulled them both behind the last wall between them and the encampment proper, and not a second later an arrows shot down the corridor of walls. Back to the wall, Corrin glanced to the side; the spearmen had also reached the frontmost wall, and were hiding themselves as well, spears bristling out the sides to prevent any ambushes.

“John?” Dain asked them.

Iolar peeked out from behind a wall. “Close.”

“I hate being shield!” John’s heavily accented voice called.

Dain nodded. “Soon.” He told Corrin.

Less than a minute later, John’s heavily armored self appeared from behind a wall, Uia hunkered down close to the man. The armor was bristling with arrows, but John himself seemed entirely unaffected. Uia, once John had permitted him room, ducked behind the wall next to Corrin, wiping sweat from his brow. John slowly made his way behind a wall, next to Iolar.

“Now what?” Corrin asked.

“Where’s Kent?” Dain yelled down at the others.

“Knocked off his horse in the back!” Quarden replied. “Did the… y’know… the Kent thing.”

Dain released an exasperated sigh. “I hate the Kent thing.

“What’s the Kent thing?” Corrin asked.

Garnell answered him, pantomiming with his fingers and providing sound effects from his vocal cords to show a man on a horse charging right at the enemy forces, then being hit by an arrow. “The Kent thing.” He concluded.

Corrin nodded. “So a man down, then?”

“Yep. We keep going, though; cutting losses isn’t logical when people aren’t actually dying.” He turned to the group of spearmen behind the other wall, making a couple cutting motions with his hands.

Iolar and Quarden both nodded near simultaneously, then charged out from behind the wall. Corrin made to follow them, but Garnell caught his shoulder, holding him back. 

“Wait for it…” The Striker cautioned.

Corrin watched the soldiers with anticipation, gripping his sword harder than ever. The two guards stationed at the the front gate had attacked them, but been quickly dispatched by the sheer number of spearmen. Iolar and Quarden had formed them all into rough semicircle facing the wall, creating a kind of safety net to fall back into in case things turned south.

Emerging from the men came Uia, holding a… thing. It looked like a fancy plank of wood, which was a description Corrin never thought he’d be attributing something to. The mage made his way up to the wall, wary as if for archers—a plausible caution, but Corrin was pretty sure they had all been removed by Teren or given spears to fight with. Uia placed the object on the wall, pressing his palm against it and closing his eyes to concentrate. After a second, Uia removed his hand, leaving the object still attached to the wall. He fell back, looking very nervous.

“What was that?” Corrin asked.

A massive crash heralded the wall suddenly caving in on itself. Not collapsing or exploding; falling backwards as if pushed by earth Arcana—and powerful earth Arcana at that.

“Go!” Dain cried. “Go, now!”

Corrin charged out from behind the wall, all thought gone from his mind. Run in. Grab the banner. Defeat any who come between him and his goal—

What? What was that?

Corrin shook his head, then jumped through the hole in the wall, Dain at his heels and Garnell just ahead. Confused-looking spearmen’s arms tensed, tightening their grip on their spears. Corrin ducked between two of these spears, ramming into both men shoulders-first. They fell over with a grunt and a cry. He kept running, relatively oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes were set on the small, earthen building in the middle of the encampment: the banner would be in there.

To his right, Dain took on another soldier, this one armed with a sword. Corrin forged ahead until he was right beside the building. He didn’t lose momentum as he pulled open the door, ready to charge in and take the banner—

A massive, hulking body kicked him hard in the chest, not just knocking him off his feet but also a good yard away. With a groan he pulled himself off the ground, hazily looking up at the massive axe-wielding heavy-armorer. He took up the entire doorway by himself, not bothering to leave it and attack Corrin; he was their last resort to stall for time.

“Corrin!” Garnell shouted, barreling past a spearman and to his side. When he saw the guard at the door, though, he paled slightly. “Oh.”

“Do you think we can take him together?” Corrin asked, falling into a stance that Lars taught him years ago: knees bent, one foot behind the other, sword in front to guard his chest.

“Most definitely not.” Garnell replied, falling into a similar stance of his own. “But unless Uia can miraculously recharge that Alch-MT and blow down that building, we need to at least try.”

“Alright, then,” Corrin said, not bothering to ask what an Alch-MT was, “what’s the plan?”

“You see his axe?”

“Yes, it’s… hard to miss.”

“That’s a big axe.”

“I can tell.”

“Which means that if we get up close and personal to him, he can’t hit us unless he falls back. If he falls back, we can get through the doorway.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, then we push him back.”

“What’s stopping him from pushing us, though?”

Garnell chuckled. “You, o’course.”

Me?”

“Yup. I go and tackle him, and you spot me from behind.”

Corrin frowned. “You sure I have the, ah… physical capabilities to do that?”

“Geeze, Corrin; you may look like a kid next to me, but you ain’t no featherweight. Now let’s go! We don’t have much time to lose.”

“Lead the way.”

Garnell charged the man standing in the doorway, Corrin right behind him. The heavy-armorer was prepared for this, and swung at Garnell when he came into range. Garnell ducked under the attack, though, and tackled the soldier. Corrin slammed into Garnell’s back, shield-first. Garnell pushed against the soldier, Corrin pushing against him. The heavy-armorer pushed back, though, causing them both to slide through the dirt.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled, strain heavy on his voice. Corrin dug his feet into the dirt, but to no avail, as the heavy-armored soldier pushed them out further.

Suddenly, Corrin felt himself being pushed forwards instead of back. The heavy-armored soldier grunted loudly, and both Garnell and Corrin stopped sliding. He didn’t have to liberty to look around and see who it was, but the voice from the anchor weight told him well enough.

“Who thought out this plan?” Dain demanded, grunting.

“Garnell, sir.” Corrin replied, also grunting.

“I should’ve known that Garnell’s solution to this particular problem would be muscle.”

“Hey!” Garnell replied, not straining quite so much as the other two. “Big heavy-armor guy! What did you expect?”

With a collective grunt, they all pushed forwards with all their might, and the heavy-armored soldier fell over onto his back. Corrin also fell over, onto his chest, as did Dain, but the captain recovered quickly to his feet. Garnell hadn’t fallen at all, instead dashing inside and grabbing the banner: an Enclave flag on a metal pole.

As the Striker ran out, though, the fallen guard grabbed his leg, tripping him. “Dain!” Garnell yelled, awkwardly tossing the banner to him. Corrin got to his feet as Dain caught the banner, then ran with the captain towards the gaping hole Uia had placed in the wall.

Halfway to the wall, though, there was a loud grunt, and suddenly Corrin wasn’t running beside anyone. Sliding through the dirt as he stopped his pace, Corrin turned around to see Dain collapsed on the ground, a blunted arrow sitting in the dirt beside him.

With a small, involuntary yell, Corrin ran to his captain, falling to Dain’s side as if he could do something about his collapsed captain.

“Take the banner.” Dain grunted. “We haven’t got… time.”

“Are you alright?” Corrin asked.

“I’m fine. Take the banner. Get out.”

“I’ve got to get you to a heal—”

“Take the banner, darn it!” Dain yelled. “I’ll be fine; just go!”

Corrin hesitated, a little taken aback by Dain’s outburst, then nodded and grabbed the flag. He stood, banner in his offhand. When he turned around, however, he was greeted by a sword-wielding soldier, who was running towards him at top speeds, sword held to his side with both arms.

The soldier, when close enough, swung at Corrin, only to find his blade deflected by Corrin’s shield. Corrin, in retaliation, jabbed at him, though doing so was awkward with the banner in his offhand. He managed to push the soldier back a few feet with his stab, then quickly scanned the battlefield for any who could take the banner from him. Garnell was wrestling with the heavy-armored unit, and Dain was still on the ground. Spearmen from both sides brawled back and forth, some with spears, some without. John was protecting Uia, and Teren was nowhere to be seen—Corrin was the only one left.

The soldier attacked Corrin again, but this time Corrin deflected his blade with the flagpole. He struck at the soldier’s side, smacking him hard with his blunted blade. The soldier grunted, but kept fighting. Corrin took a few steps back, giving him a few seconds to readjust his grip. He had never tried dual-wielding before, but no time like the present, right?

The soldier struck at his left, only to be deflected by the flagpole again. Corrin twisted his body, pulling the soldier’s sword behind him with the flag, and jabbing at the soldier’s chest with his sword. The soldier pulled back, then stabbed at Corrin’s stomach. Corrin deflected the blade with his own, then swung at the soldier’s head with the flagpole. The soldier brought his sword up, though, blocking the pole and then another attack that followed.

Despite his dual means of attack, Corrin began falling backwards against the skilled onslaught of the soldier. He found himself being forced to use both sword and pole to defend himself, unable to catch an opportunity to strike back. Once or twice, the soldier pegged a spot left undefended, leaving what Corrin was sure would be a nasty bruise sometime later.

As he deflected an overhead strike with both his sword and pole crossed into an X shape, he watched the soldier wince.

It hurts him to lean to the right, Corrin calculated, because of when I hit him.

Corrin hit something hard—the soldier had pushed him to the back wall. Corrin haphazardly deflected another strike aimed at his lower body, realizing a second too late that the soldier had, in fact, been feinting. The soldier hit Corrin’s side hard with his sword, enacting a grunt from him, then brought back his sword to stab at Corrin’s chest.

The sword shot forward, and Corrin stole his chance. He ducked out of the way, beneath the soldier’s left arm, pushing himself off the soldier for more distance. He came up behind the soldier, hitting the back of his knee with the pole. As the soldier grunted and lost his balance, Corrin spun around, smacking the soldier in the head with the banner.

The soldier collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

Corrin wiped his lip, even though it wasn’t bleeding—it was more instinctual than intended, as most fights he got into ended up in a split lip. 

“Good fight.” He told the unconscious soldier, then turned and ran to the hole in the wall.

Someone cheered as he jumped out, banner in hand; he couldn’t tell who, but it didn’t matter. He held the banner aloft for the squadron to see, panting from the exertion of the battle. The brawl between spearmen halted, half to cheer, half to sulk. Uia and Dain both looked relieved, while Garnell yelled something incoherent at the top of his voice. John went off to help the captain to his feet, while Garnell stumbled his way over the fallen heavy-armorer to barrel towards Corrin and slam him hard on the shoulder.

“That was awesome!” Garnell exclaimed. “When you whacked that guy in the face with the banner, and… oh, is that guy okay?”

“He’ll be alright when the Healers are through with him.” Dain replied, walking towards them—or, rather, being dragged towards them by John. “And I hope that I’ll also be alright when the Healers are through with me.”

“I should’ve just gone, shouldn’t of I?” Corrin asked him. “Just taken that banner and run?”

“In this situation, yes.” Dain replied. “What you did—or tried to do, anyways—was noble and all, but I wasn’t in any actual danger. If, during a real battle, I get hit by an arrow, but there’s something more important to take care of… then what you do is up to what you think is right.”

“Enough wisdom, old man.” Garnell chastised. “Let’s get you to the Healers and fix you up—I don’t fancy carrying a dying captain back to Camp Thunder. Corrin, help me out with this guy?”

“Yeah.” He replied, helping Garnell assist Dain. His mind kept slipping, though, to something Dain had said.

During a real battle.

This hadn’t even been serious—and yet it felt so real. What was an actual battle like?

“You alright there, Corrin?” Dain asked.

Corrin swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I think so.”

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

11 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

Chapter XI! I finally finished it! Finally!

  Hide contents

Chapter XI - Training Session

First Earthlight | Camp Thunder

Corrin nervously twirled his blade between his fingers. It was not the one he had brought from Camp Ember back when he was first equipping; this one was dulled, and rounded at the edge. Similarly, Dain and Mareth checked over their training blades, Iolar and Quarden over their spears, and Garnell, his axe. Teren had taken a quiver of blunted arrows; not deadly, but probably a horrible pain to be hit with. Beside the spearmen, the cavalier Kent sat astride a horse, a false lance in his hand and a similar javelin at his side. John was outfitting himself in a suit of heavy plate, and Uia skitted about from soldier to soldier, making sure they were nice and dry.

“You alright, Corrin?” Dain asked. “Looking a little pale.”

“I’m just not sure about my first training session being… a mock battle.” He twirled his blade a little faster, rounded tip against the ground, pommel in his palm. “What about formations training, or technique?”

“Well, as I understand it, you studied tactics outside of the Enclave, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess I did—”

“And you’ve already proven that you’re quite a formidable swordsman, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“What do you think he’s worried about, Dain?” Garnell interjected. “You can’t very well send a wide-eyed recruit against a rain of arrows and expect him to understand exactly what he’s doing. Remember me? Mareth? These two hopeless spearboys?” He gestured to the twins.

Dain shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned back to Corrin. “How about some last-minute advice, then?”

“Sure.” Corrin replied.

“The best advice I can give you is to be decisive. Freezing up on the battlefield could very well be the end of you. I don’t care whether you choose to throw yourself at the enemy or dive behind a rock, if you’re not standing, defenses wide-open, in front of a demon with a spear, then by Icona just do it.”

Corrin hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, then. What’s the plan?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to have one, yet.” Dain replied. “Somewhere out in that wide, open field—” He gestured to the plains, “another squadron has set up a temporary camp, and we have to find it and kill it.”

“We win if we grab their banner,” Mareth added, “and get it back out again.”

“Like one-way capture the flag.” Garnell said.

“Once the bell rings,” Dain gestured at Camp Thunder, which stood to their backs, “we’ll have until second Earthlight to find them, take the banner, and win our right to not muck out the stables. According to the rules, we aren’t supposed to begin reconnaissance until the bell rings.”

“Two hours to find the camp, create a strategy, break through their defenses, and take their banner?” Corrin asked. “That sounds a little ludicrous.”

Garnell laughed. “Ah, Corrin. Rule-abiding as always. We already found their camp, and we already have a strategy.”

He looked up, shocked. “What? But the rules—”

“Are less rules, and more of guidelines.” Dain interrupted. “In reality, there’s nobody telling us when we can or can’t search for an enemy encampment, or start strategizing, which is why last night I sent out Iolar and Quarden to distract the guards—”

“And distract him we did,” Iolar added proudly.

“While Teren snuck out and found their camp; as well as their defenses.”

“And those are?”

Teren cleared his throat, then began sketching in the dirt with an arrow. After a few seconds, he had already created a makeshift map: A rough circle for the walls, crosses for the soldiers, two lines for the gate. He also added a few outer lines, explaining (however briefly) that they represented walls.

Once Teren had finished his drawing, he stepped back, and Dain began laying out a strategy. “Alright, so they have a good fifteen-some soldiers in total, over half of them on guard duty. The banner is probably located somewhere inside the camp proper,” he poked a dot in the middle of the circle, “which would probably be guarded by the remaining soldiers. They’ve created several outer walls, with only a few feet of an opening between them.”

“So it’s a bottleneck method?” Corrin asked. “We can’t push forward unless we go through one of the openings. We’re playing on their turf.”

Dain pointed at him. “Exactly. However, we have a secret weapon.”

“And that is?”

Behind Corrin, a loud, heavily-accented voice sighed. “I hate being shield.”

Dain shot John an apologetic look. “Listen, John, we talked about this. Heavy-armorers draw fire. You make a distraction, they shoot you with arrows, you survive said arrows, and we sneak through the other side to have at them.”

“I still hate.”

“Isn’t that a little… obvious?” Corrin asked. “Wars aren’t exactly fought with numbers, but if we only threw the one heavy-armored unit at them, then they’ll know something’s up.”

Dain cracked a smile. “I think you’d make a good captain. You’re right, of course; we can’t very well send everyone at the back of the fort and expect them to be surprised… and we also can’t very well leave John alone to fend for himself.”

“That’s where we come in.” Garnell replied. “Us Strikers.”

“So… what, four groups?” Corrin asked. “Four groups of three or so? We might as well travel in pairs for all the good that’ll do us.”

“We won’t be assaulting the camp proper that way,” Dain reassured him, “we’ll just split up until we’ve reached the innermost outer wall.” He tapped the closest line to the circle. “We travel through these walls separately to thin out their fire, because there only so many arrows six men, most of them not even Archer class, can throw at us.”
“Once we get close, we group up again.” Garnell said. “And we break through.”

“Through the gates?” Corrin asked. “And charge headfirst into a wall of spears?”

“Not exactly.” Dain tapped the side of the circle. “We’re going to break through the wall here, instead.”

“How—” Corrin was cut off by Garnell shushing the others. There was obviously some secret they were hiding from him. “Okay, then. After we get in, what’s the plan?”

“Well, by then, we’ll have a line of spears set up just in case they come charging out. If they freeze, we take initiative and attack.” Dain pointed at Corrin, then thumbed to himself. “You, Mareth, Garnell, me, we take them out and grab the banner. Iolar and Quarden hold the retreat line, John helps us flank them, Kent causes chaos—”

“Horses are really good at causing chaos,” Kent affirms.

“Then we capture the flag and get out.”

Corrin clapped his hands together. “Alright. What are we waiting for then?”

In the distance, a bell rang.

Dain thumbed back at Camp Thunder. “That. Let’s get cracking, boys.”

 

 

“You know, when we got back at Camp Thunder, I thought that we were done walking.” Corrin said.

 

 

The squadron was hiking up a hill, the chill of early morning still crisp in the air. The Earthlight sun slowly climbed towards the apex of the sky, at which the time would turn from First to Second Earthlight. Camp Thunder was a good two or three miles behind them. According to Teren, they were almost there, but Corrin thought that if they were really that close, they would’ve seen it by now.

“Well, you can’t put your camp right next to someone else’s, right?” Dain asked. “Unless you’re laying siege to someone, or something.”

“We’re almost there.” Teren repeated. “Really almost there.”

“How almost is really almost?” Garnell asked, wiping his brow. “Because—” he stopped.

“What?” Corrin clambered his way up the hillside after him, almost losing his balance twice. “What, is it—”

Beneath them, safely tucked into a small valley, a large, circular encampment surrounded by a series of Arcane earthen walls stood proudly, bearing the flag of the Silverclad Enclave for the Collective to see. Oblivious to the squadron standing not a hundred feet away from them, the bow-armed guards on the walls leaned, bored and daydreaming, against the turrets. The earthen walls sat in rows in front of the gates, far enough apart to let a few men through, but still tight enough to provide a deadly bottleneck.

Dain tugged lightly on Corirn’s sleeve, pulling him back until the camp was out of view. “We can’t be seen; at least, not yet. You guys remember the plan?”

“Split up.” Garnell began.

“Make our way forwards to the main wall.” Mareth continued.

“Meet up and… something happens?” Corrin asked.

Dain nodded. “Iolar, Quarden, you two take the spears down the right flank. Be careful not to lose anybody.”

“Yessir.” Iolar said, uncharacteristically serious-sounding.

“Mareth, lead John, Kent, and Uia down the front. Keep John in front to take the arrows, and make sure that you don’t lose our mage.”

“I hate being shield.” John muttered.

“Garnell: you, Corrin, and me head down the left. Corrin, how well do you think you can use that shield?”

“If you’re asking if I can block an arrow with it,” Corrin replied, “then no idea, but I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit. Then Teren, you stay up here. When I shoot you the signal, pick off those archers. With luck, they’ll look for you and not us; at least for a few seconds.” He turned to face the group as a whole. “Once the camp starts shouting, go. The idea is to get through those walls and fast; maximum enemy confusion to buy us time. You got that, everyone?”

The soldiers, strikers, and Corrin alike all nodded, nervously gripping their weapons.

“Alright, then.” Dain replied. “Let’s move out.”

 

 

“You feelin’ alright?” Garnell asked Corrin. “First battle, however fake, right?”

 

 

“Yeah.” Corrin replied. The Arcane earthen wall at his back was uncannily smooth. “Yeah, I’m… alright.”

Everyone had moved into position easily enough. No one from the camp had spotted them, though Dain didn’t think that the camp expected to; the squadron who had assembled the camp had traded visibility for natural defense and seclusion.

“You two ready?” Dain asked, unsheathing his sword.

Garnell unslung his axe, nodding. Corrin checked his shield strap, then pulled out his own sword, spinning it in his hand. He took a sharp breath, then nodded.

Dain nodded in return, then held up his sword against the Earthsun’s light. A reflective gleam appeared on the hill from the blade, which Dain moved into the barely recognizable shape of Teren’s head. A couple flashes, and Dain brought his sword down. Not a second later, the distant creak of Teren’s bowstring heralded a nearly indiscernible blur of his arrow, and a loud cry of pain when it struck one of the guards. Corrin winced at the cry, but he couldn’t be head over the yells that followed: the cries of guards alerting the others to the archer.

“Go!” Dain yelled, dashing down through the series of walls, Garnell close behind him. Corrin followed not a second later, but even before he could start running, shield out, another arrow from Teren zipped through the air, striking a second guard.

Not a second after they began dashing down the rows of Arcane earthen walls, a small, slightly unmanly yelp emanated from Dain. Both he and Garnell dived behind one of the walls in turn, leaving Corrin frozen between either of them, unaware of what was going on.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled. “Shield!”

In a flash of a second, Corrin registered the archer on the wall, pointing his bow right at him. He barely managed to raise his shield before the arrow flew. The blunt tip smashed into the wood of his shield, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. A few seconds later, Garnell’s massive, calloused hand grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back behind one of the walls. A moment after that, a second arrow smacked into the ground where he had been laying prone.

Corrin, with a grunt, pulled himself to his feet. “That could’ve killed me!” He exclaimed, gesturing to his shield, which had been punctured by the projectile. The arrow’s head stuck out the back end of the wood, and the shaft wobbled out the front.

“No, but it certainly would’ve hurt.” Dain replied, behind a wall parallel to their own.

Garnell did the favor of relieving the shield of the arrow, snapping the shaft and plucking the arrowhead through, leaving a small hole in the middle. He tossed the remains over his shoulder, then took a breath and hefted his axe.

“So… now what?” Corrin asked. “We wait for Teren to pick off those archers?”

“No.” Dain replied. “We keep going.”

What?” Corrin demanded, but he understood fine.

“It’s a lot more different, isn’t it?” Dain asked. “When you’re actually out in the field itself. Throwing a squadron at a wall is simple enough when you’re doing it on a map—it’s a lot different why you’re the one being thrown at it.”

Corrin took a sharp breath, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

Dain peeked around the corner, then held up three fingers, dropping them in turn. “Three… two… one… go!” He jumped out from behind the wall, dashing down the makeshift corridor, Corrin and Garnell hot on his heels. This time, they made it all the way down without any interruptions.

Dain pulled them both behind the last wall between them and the encampment proper, and not a second later an arrows shot down the corridor of walls. Back to the wall, Corrin glanced to the side; the spearmen had also reached the frontmost wall, and were hiding themselves as well, spears bristling out the sides to prevent any ambushes.

“John?” Dain asked them.

Iolar peeked out from behind a wall. “Close.”

“I hate being shield!” John’s heavily accented voice called.

Dain nodded. “Soon.” He told Corrin.

Less than a minute later, John’s heavily armored self appeared from behind a wall, Uia hunkered down close to the man. The armor was bristling with arrows, but John himself seemed entirely unaffected. Uia, once John had permitted him room, ducked behind the wall next to Corrin, wiping sweat from his brow. John slowly made his way behind a wall, next to Iolar.

“Now what?” Corrin asked.

“Where’s Kent?” Dain yelled down at the others.

“Knocked off his horse in the back!” Quarden replied. “Did the… y’know… the Kent thing.”

Dain released an exasperated sigh. “I hate the Kent thing.

“What’s the Kent thing?” Corrin asked.

Garnell answered him, pantomiming with his fingers and providing sound effects from his vocal cords to show a man on a horse charging right at the enemy forces, then being hit by an arrow. “The Kent thing.” He concluded.

Corrin nodded. “So a man down, then?”

“Yep. We keep going, though; cutting losses isn’t logical when people aren’t actually dying.” He turned to the group of spearmen behind the other wall, making a couple cutting motions with his hands.

Iolar and Quarden both nodded near simultaneously, then charged out from behind the wall. Corrin made to follow them, but Garnell caught his shoulder, holding him back. 

“Wait for it…” The Striker cautioned.

Corrin watched the soldiers with anticipation, gripping his sword harder than ever. The two guards stationed at the the front gate had attacked them, but been quickly dispatched by the sheer number of spearmen. Iolar and Quarden had formed them all into rough semicircle facing the wall, creating a kind of safety net to fall back into in case things turned south.

Emerging from the men came Uia, holding a… thing. It looked like a fancy plank of wood, which was a description Corrin never thought he’d be attributing something to. The mage made his way up to the wall, wary as if for archers—a plausible caution, but Corrin was pretty sure they had all been removed by Teren or given spears to fight with. Uia placed the object on the wall, pressing his palm against it and closing his eyes to concentrate. After a second, Uia removed his hand, leaving the object still attached to the wall. He fell back, looking very nervous.

“What was that?” Corrin asked.

A massive crash heralded the wall suddenly caving in on itself. Not collapsing or exploding; falling backwards as if pushed by earth Arcana—and powerful earth Arcana at that.

“Go!” Dain cried. “Go, now!”

Corrin charged out from behind the wall, all thought gone from his mind. Run in. Grab the banner. Defeat any who come between him and his goal—

What? What was that?

Corrin shook his head, then jumped through the hole in the wall, Dain at his heels and Garnell just ahead. Confused-looking spearmen’s arms tensed, tightening their grip on their spears. Corrin ducked between two of these spears, ramming into both men shoulders-first. They fell over with a grunt and a cry. He kept running, relatively oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes were set on the small, earthen building in the middle of the encampment: the banner would be in there.

To his right, Dain took on another soldier, this one armed with a sword. Corrin forged ahead until he was right beside the building. He didn’t lose momentum as he pulled open the door, ready to charge in and take the banner—

A massive, hulking body kicked him hard in the chest, not just knocking him off his feet but also a good yard away. With a groan he pulled himself off the ground, hazily looking up at the massive axe-wielding heavy-armorer. He took up the entire doorway by himself, not bothering to leave it and attack Corrin; he was their last resort to stall for time.

“Corrin!” Garnell shouted, barreling past a spearman and to his side. When he saw the guard at the door, though, he paled slightly. “Oh.”

“Do you think we can take him together?” Corrin asked, falling into a stance that Lars taught him years ago: knees bent, one foot behind the other, sword in front to guard his chest.

“Most definitely not.” Garnell replied, falling into a similar stance of his own. “But unless Uia can miraculously recharge that Alch-MT and blow down that building, we need to at least try.”

“Alright, then,” Corrin said, not bothering to ask what an Alch-MT was, “what’s the plan?”

“You see his axe?”

“Yes, it’s… hard to miss.”

“That’s a big axe.”

“I can tell.”

“Which means that if we get up close and personal to him, he can’t hit us unless he falls back. If he falls back, we can get through the doorway.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, then we push him back.”

“What’s stopping him from pushing us, though?”

Garnell chuckled. “You, o’course.”

Me?”

“Yup. I go and tackle him, and you spot me from behind.”

Corrin frowned. “You sure I have the, ah… physical capabilities to do that?”

“Geeze, Corrin; you may look like a kid next to me, but you ain’t no featherweight. Now let’s go! We don’t have much time to lose.”

“Lead the way.”

Garnell charged the man standing in the doorway, Corrin right behind him. The heavy-armorer was prepared for this, and swung at Garnell when he came into range. Garnell ducked under the attack, though, and tackled the soldier. Corrin slammed into Garnell’s back, shield-first. Garnell pushed against the soldier, Corrin pushing against him. The heavy-armorer pushed back, though, causing them both to slide through the dirt.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled, strain heavy on his voice. Corrin dug his feet into the dirt, but to no avail, as the heavy-armored soldier pushed them out further.

Suddenly, Corrin felt himself being pushed forwards instead of back. The heavy-armored soldier grunted loudly, and both Garnell and Corrin stopped sliding. He didn’t have to liberty to look around and see who it was, but the voice from the anchor weight told him well enough.

“Who thought out this plan?” Dain demanded, grunting.

“Garnell, sir.” Corrin replied, also grunting.

“I should’ve known that Garnell’s solution to this particular problem would be muscle.”

“Hey!” Garnell replied, not straining quite so much as the other two. “Big heavy-armor guy! What did you expect?”

With a collective grunt, they all pushed forwards with all their might, and the heavy-armored soldier fell over onto his back. Corrin also fell over, onto his chest, as did Dain, but the captain recovered quickly to his feet. Garnell hadn’t fallen at all, instead dashing inside and grabbing the banner: an Enclave flag on a metal pole.

As the Striker ran out, though, the fallen guard grabbed his leg, tripping him. “Dain!” Garnell yelled, awkwardly tossing the banner to him. Corrin got to his feet as Dain caught the banner, then ran with the captain towards the gaping hole Uia had placed in the wall.

Halfway to the wall, though, there was a loud grunt, and suddenly Corrin wasn’t running beside anyone. Sliding through the dirt as he stopped his pace, Corrin turned around to see Dain collapsed on the ground, a blunted arrow sitting in the dirt beside him.

With a small, involuntary yell, Corrin ran to his captain, falling to Dain’s side as if he could do something about his collapsed captain.

“Take the banner.” Dain grunted. “We haven’t got… time.”

“Are you alright?” Corrin asked.

“I’m fine. Take the banner. Get out.”

“I’ve got to get you to a heal—”

“Take the banner, darn it!” Dain yelled. “I’ll be fine; just go!”

Corrin hesitated, a little taken aback by Dain’s outburst, then nodded and grabbed the flag. He stood, banner in his offhand. When he turned around, however, he was greeted by a sword-wielding soldier, who was running towards him at top speeds, sword held to his side with both arms.

The soldier, when close enough, swung at Corrin, only to find his blade deflected by Corrin’s shield. Corrin, in retaliation, jabbed at him, though doing so was awkward with the banner in his offhand. He managed to push the soldier back a few feet with his stab, then quickly scanned the battlefield for any who could take the banner from him. Garnell was wrestling with the heavy-armored unit, and Dain was still on the ground. Spearmen from both sides brawled back and forth, some with spears, some without. John was protecting Uia, and Teren was nowhere to be seen—Corrin was the only one left.

The soldier attacked Corrin again, but this time Corrin deflected his blade with the flagpole. He struck at the soldier’s side, smacking him hard with his blunted blade. The soldier grunted, but kept fighting. Corrin took a few steps back, giving him a few seconds to readjust his grip. He had never tried dual-wielding before, but no time like the present, right?

The soldier struck at his left, only to be deflected by the flagpole again. Corrin twisted his body, pulling the soldier’s sword behind him with the flag, and jabbing at the soldier’s chest with his sword. The soldier pulled back, then stabbed at Corrin’s stomach. Corrin deflected the blade with his own, then swung at the soldier’s head with the flagpole. The soldier brought his sword up, though, blocking the pole and then another attack that followed.

Despite his dual means of attack, Corrin began falling backwards against the skilled onslaught of the soldier. He found himself being forced to use both sword and pole to defend himself, unable to catch an opportunity to strike back. Once or twice, the soldier pegged a spot left undefended, leaving what Corrin was sure would be a nasty bruise sometime later.

As he deflected an overhead strike with both his sword and pole crossed into an X shape, he watched the soldier wince.

It hurts him to lean to the right, Corrin calculated, because of when I hit him.

Corrin hit something hard—the soldier had pushed him to the back wall. Corrin haphazardly deflected another strike aimed at his lower body, realizing a second too late that the soldier had, in fact, been feinting. The soldier hit Corrin’s side hard with his sword, enacting a grunt from him, then brought back his sword to stab at Corrin’s chest.

The sword shot forward, and Corrin stole his chance. He ducked out of the way, beneath the soldier’s left arm, pushing himself off the soldier for more distance. He came up behind the soldier, hitting the back of his knee with the pole. As the soldier grunted and lost his balance, Corrin spun around, smacking the soldier in the head with the banner.

The soldier collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

Corrin wiped his lip, even though it wasn’t bleeding—it was more instinctual than intended, as most fights he got into ended up in a split lip. 

“Good fight.” He told the unconscious soldier, then turned and ran to the hole in the wall.

Someone cheered as he jumped out, banner in hand; he couldn’t tell who, but it didn’t matter. He held the banner aloft for the squadron to see, panting from the exertion of the battle. The brawl between spearmen halted, half to cheer, half to sulk. Uia and Dain both looked relieved, while Garnell yelled something incoherent at the top of his voice. John went off to help the captain to his feet, while Garnell stumbled his way over the fallen heavy-armorer to barrel towards Corrin and slam him hard on the shoulder.

“That was awesome!” Garnell exclaimed. “When you whacked that guy in the face with the banner, and… oh, is that guy okay?”

“He’ll be alright when the Healers are through with him.” Dain replied, walking towards them—or, rather, being dragged towards them by John. “And I hope that I’ll also be alright when the Healers are through with me.”

“I should’ve just gone, shouldn’t of I?” Corrin asked him. “Just taken that banner and run?”

“In this situation, yes.” Dain replied. “What you did—or tried to do, anyways—was noble and all, but I wasn’t in any actual danger. If, during a real battle, I get hit by an arrow, but there’s something more important to take care of… then what you do is up to what you think is right.”

“Enough wisdom, old man.” Garnell chastised. “Let’s get you to the Healers and fix you up—I don’t fancy carrying a dying captain back to Camp Thunder. Corrin, help me out with this guy?”

“Yeah.” He replied, helping Garnell assist Dain. His mind kept slipping, though, to something Dain had said.

During a real battle.

This hadn’t even been serious—and yet it felt so real. What was an actual battle like?

“You alright there, Corrin?” Dain asked.

Corrin swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I think so.”

 

I very much appreciate having the POV character not be useless :P Thanks for breaking the stereotype!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

3 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

I very much appreciate having the POV character not be useless :P Thanks for breaking the stereotype!

That's a sterotype? ... Huh. Now that I think about it, yeah; main characters being useless is usually a sterotype. I was just worried that I was falling into the "main character being too OP" sterotype. I hope I hit the gray area?

Edited by Channelknight Fadran
Link to comment
Share on other sites

20 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

Chapter XI! I finally finished it! Finally!

  Reveal hidden contents

Chapter XI - Training Session

First Earthlight | Camp Thunder

Corrin nervously twirled his blade between his fingers. It was not the one he had brought from Camp Ember back when he was first equipping; this one was dulled, and rounded at the edge. Similarly, Dain and Mareth checked over their training blades, Iolar and Quarden over their spears, and Garnell, his axe. Teren had taken a quiver of blunted arrows; not deadly, but probably a horrible pain to be hit with. Beside the spearmen, the cavalier Kent sat astride a horse, a false lance in his hand and a similar javelin at his side. John was outfitting himself in a suit of heavy plate, and Uia skitted about from soldier to soldier, making sure they were nice and dry.

“You alright, Corrin?” Dain asked. “Looking a little pale.”

“I’m just not sure about my first training session being… a mock battle.” He twirled his blade a little faster, rounded tip against the ground, pommel in his palm. “What about formations training, or technique?”

“Well, as I understand it, you studied tactics outside of the Enclave, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess I did—”

“And you’ve already proven that you’re quite a formidable swordsman, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“What do you think he’s worried about, Dain?” Garnell interjected. “You can’t very well send a wide-eyed recruit against a rain of arrows and expect him to understand exactly what he’s doing. Remember me? Mareth? These two hopeless spearboys?” He gestured to the twins.

Dain shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned back to Corrin. “How about some last-minute advice, then?”

“Sure.” Corrin replied.

“The best advice I can give you is to be decisive. Freezing up on the battlefield could very well be the end of you. I don’t care whether you choose to throw yourself at the enemy or dive behind a rock, if you’re not standing, defenses wide-open, in front of a demon with a spear, then by Icona just do it.”

Corrin hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, then. What’s the plan?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to have one, yet.” Dain replied. “Somewhere out in that wide, open field—” He gestured to the plains, “another squadron has set up a temporary camp, and we have to find it and kill it.”

“We win if we grab their banner,” Mareth added, “and get it back out again.”

“Like one-way capture the flag.” Garnell said.

“Once the bell rings,” Dain gestured at Camp Thunder, which stood to their backs, “we’ll have until second Earthlight to find them, take the banner, and win our right to not muck out the stables. According to the rules, we aren’t supposed to begin reconnaissance until the bell rings.”

“Two hours to find the camp, create a strategy, break through their defenses, and take their banner?” Corrin asked. “That sounds a little ludicrous.”

Garnell laughed. “Ah, Corrin. Rule-abiding as always. We already found their camp, and we already have a strategy.”

He looked up, shocked. “What? But the rules—”

“Are less rules, and more of guidelines.” Dain interrupted. “In reality, there’s nobody telling us when we can or can’t search for an enemy encampment, or start strategizing, which is why last night I sent out Iolar and Quarden to distract the guards—”

“And distract him we did,” Iolar added proudly.

“While Teren snuck out and found their camp; as well as their defenses.”

“And those are?”

Teren cleared his throat, then began sketching in the dirt with an arrow. After a few seconds, he had already created a makeshift map: A rough circle for the walls, crosses for the soldiers, two lines for the gate. He also added a few outer lines, explaining (however briefly) that they represented walls.

Once Teren had finished his drawing, he stepped back, and Dain began laying out a strategy. “Alright, so they have a good fifteen-some soldiers in total, over half of them on guard duty. The banner is probably located somewhere inside the camp proper,” he poked a dot in the middle of the circle, “which would probably be guarded by the remaining soldiers. They’ve created several outer walls, with only a few feet of an opening between them.”

“So it’s a bottleneck method?” Corrin asked. “We can’t push forward unless we go through one of the openings. We’re playing on their turf.”

Dain pointed at him. “Exactly. However, we have a secret weapon.”

“And that is?”

Behind Corrin, a loud, heavily-accented voice sighed. “I hate being shield.”

Dain shot John an apologetic look. “Listen, John, we talked about this. Heavy-armorers draw fire. You make a distraction, they shoot you with arrows, you survive said arrows, and we sneak through the other side to have at them.”

“I still hate.”

“Isn’t that a little… obvious?” Corrin asked. “Wars aren’t exactly fought with numbers, but if we only threw the one heavy-armored unit at them, then they’ll know something’s up.”

Dain cracked a smile. “I think you’d make a good captain. You’re right, of course; we can’t very well send everyone at the back of the fort and expect them to be surprised… and we also can’t very well leave John alone to fend for himself.”

“That’s where we come in.” Garnell replied. “Us Strikers.”

“So… what, four groups?” Corrin asked. “Four groups of three or so? We might as well travel in pairs for all the good that’ll do us.”

“We won’t be assaulting the camp proper that way,” Dain reassured him, “we’ll just split up until we’ve reached the innermost outer wall.” He tapped the closest line to the circle. “We travel through these walls separately to thin out their fire, because there only so many arrows six men, most of them not even Archer class, can throw at us.”
“Once we get close, we group up again.” Garnell said. “And we break through.”

“Through the gates?” Corrin asked. “And charge headfirst into a wall of spears?”

“Not exactly.” Dain tapped the side of the circle. “We’re going to break through the wall here, instead.”

“How—” Corrin was cut off by Garnell shushing the others. There was obviously some secret they were hiding from him. “Okay, then. After we get in, what’s the plan?”

“Well, by then, we’ll have a line of spears set up just in case they come charging out. If they freeze, we take initiative and attack.” Dain pointed at Corrin, then thumbed to himself. “You, Mareth, Garnell, me, we take them out and grab the banner. Iolar and Quarden hold the retreat line, John helps us flank them, Kent causes chaos—”

“Horses are really good at causing chaos,” Kent affirms.

“Then we capture the flag and get out.”

Corrin clapped his hands together. “Alright. What are we waiting for then?”

In the distance, a bell rang.

Dain thumbed back at Camp Thunder. “That. Let’s get cracking, boys.”

 

 

“You know, when we got back at Camp Thunder, I thought that we were done walking.” Corrin said.

 

 

The squadron was hiking up a hill, the chill of early morning still crisp in the air. The Earthlight sun slowly climbed towards the apex of the sky, at which the time would turn from First to Second Earthlight. Camp Thunder was a good two or three miles behind them. According to Teren, they were almost there, but Corrin thought that if they were really that close, they would’ve seen it by now.

“Well, you can’t put your camp right next to someone else’s, right?” Dain asked. “Unless you’re laying siege to someone, or something.”

“We’re almost there.” Teren repeated. “Really almost there.”

“How almost is really almost?” Garnell asked, wiping his brow. “Because—” he stopped.

“What?” Corrin clambered his way up the hillside after him, almost losing his balance twice. “What, is it—”

Beneath them, safely tucked into a small valley, a large, circular encampment surrounded by a series of Arcane earthen walls stood proudly, bearing the flag of the Silverclad Enclave for the Collective to see. Oblivious to the squadron standing not a hundred feet away from them, the bow-armed guards on the walls leaned, bored and daydreaming, against the turrets. The earthen walls sat in rows in front of the gates, far enough apart to let a few men through, but still tight enough to provide a deadly bottleneck.

Dain tugged lightly on Corirn’s sleeve, pulling him back until the camp was out of view. “We can’t be seen; at least, not yet. You guys remember the plan?”

“Split up.” Garnell began.

“Make our way forwards to the main wall.” Mareth continued.

“Meet up and… something happens?” Corrin asked.

Dain nodded. “Iolar, Quarden, you two take the spears down the right flank. Be careful not to lose anybody.”

“Yessir.” Iolar said, uncharacteristically serious-sounding.

“Mareth, lead John, Kent, and Uia down the front. Keep John in front to take the arrows, and make sure that you don’t lose our mage.”

“I hate being shield.” John muttered.

“Garnell: you, Corrin, and me head down the left. Corrin, how well do you think you can use that shield?”

“If you’re asking if I can block an arrow with it,” Corrin replied, “then no idea, but I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit. Then Teren, you stay up here. When I shoot you the signal, pick off those archers. With luck, they’ll look for you and not us; at least for a few seconds.” He turned to face the group as a whole. “Once the camp starts shouting, go. The idea is to get through those walls and fast; maximum enemy confusion to buy us time. You got that, everyone?”

The soldiers, strikers, and Corrin alike all nodded, nervously gripping their weapons.

“Alright, then.” Dain replied. “Let’s move out.”

 

 

“You feelin’ alright?” Garnell asked Corrin. “First battle, however fake, right?”

 

 

“Yeah.” Corrin replied. The Arcane earthen wall at his back was uncannily smooth. “Yeah, I’m… alright.”

Everyone had moved into position easily enough. No one from the camp had spotted them, though Dain didn’t think that the camp expected to; the squadron who had assembled the camp had traded visibility for natural defense and seclusion.

“You two ready?” Dain asked, unsheathing his sword.

Garnell unslung his axe, nodding. Corrin checked his shield strap, then pulled out his own sword, spinning it in his hand. He took a sharp breath, then nodded.

Dain nodded in return, then held up his sword against the Earthsun’s light. A reflective gleam appeared on the hill from the blade, which Dain moved into the barely recognizable shape of Teren’s head. A couple flashes, and Dain brought his sword down. Not a second later, the distant creak of Teren’s bowstring heralded a nearly indiscernible blur of his arrow, and a loud cry of pain when it struck one of the guards. Corrin winced at the cry, but he couldn’t be head over the yells that followed: the cries of guards alerting the others to the archer.

“Go!” Dain yelled, dashing down through the series of walls, Garnell close behind him. Corrin followed not a second later, but even before he could start running, shield out, another arrow from Teren zipped through the air, striking a second guard.

Not a second after they began dashing down the rows of Arcane earthen walls, a small, slightly unmanly yelp emanated from Dain. Both he and Garnell dived behind one of the walls in turn, leaving Corrin frozen between either of them, unaware of what was going on.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled. “Shield!”

In a flash of a second, Corrin registered the archer on the wall, pointing his bow right at him. He barely managed to raise his shield before the arrow flew. The blunt tip smashed into the wood of his shield, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. A few seconds later, Garnell’s massive, calloused hand grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back behind one of the walls. A moment after that, a second arrow smacked into the ground where he had been laying prone.

Corrin, with a grunt, pulled himself to his feet. “That could’ve killed me!” He exclaimed, gesturing to his shield, which had been punctured by the projectile. The arrow’s head stuck out the back end of the wood, and the shaft wobbled out the front.

“No, but it certainly would’ve hurt.” Dain replied, behind a wall parallel to their own.

Garnell did the favor of relieving the shield of the arrow, snapping the shaft and plucking the arrowhead through, leaving a small hole in the middle. He tossed the remains over his shoulder, then took a breath and hefted his axe.

“So… now what?” Corrin asked. “We wait for Teren to pick off those archers?”

“No.” Dain replied. “We keep going.”

What?” Corrin demanded, but he understood fine.

“It’s a lot more different, isn’t it?” Dain asked. “When you’re actually out in the field itself. Throwing a squadron at a wall is simple enough when you’re doing it on a map—it’s a lot different why you’re the one being thrown at it.”

Corrin took a sharp breath, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

Dain peeked around the corner, then held up three fingers, dropping them in turn. “Three… two… one… go!” He jumped out from behind the wall, dashing down the makeshift corridor, Corrin and Garnell hot on his heels. This time, they made it all the way down without any interruptions.

Dain pulled them both behind the last wall between them and the encampment proper, and not a second later an arrows shot down the corridor of walls. Back to the wall, Corrin glanced to the side; the spearmen had also reached the frontmost wall, and were hiding themselves as well, spears bristling out the sides to prevent any ambushes.

“John?” Dain asked them.

Iolar peeked out from behind a wall. “Close.”

“I hate being shield!” John’s heavily accented voice called.

Dain nodded. “Soon.” He told Corrin.

Less than a minute later, John’s heavily armored self appeared from behind a wall, Uia hunkered down close to the man. The armor was bristling with arrows, but John himself seemed entirely unaffected. Uia, once John had permitted him room, ducked behind the wall next to Corrin, wiping sweat from his brow. John slowly made his way behind a wall, next to Iolar.

“Now what?” Corrin asked.

“Where’s Kent?” Dain yelled down at the others.

“Knocked off his horse in the back!” Quarden replied. “Did the… y’know… the Kent thing.”

Dain released an exasperated sigh. “I hate the Kent thing.

“What’s the Kent thing?” Corrin asked.

Garnell answered him, pantomiming with his fingers and providing sound effects from his vocal cords to show a man on a horse charging right at the enemy forces, then being hit by an arrow. “The Kent thing.” He concluded.

Corrin nodded. “So a man down, then?”

“Yep. We keep going, though; cutting losses isn’t logical when people aren’t actually dying.” He turned to the group of spearmen behind the other wall, making a couple cutting motions with his hands.

Iolar and Quarden both nodded near simultaneously, then charged out from behind the wall. Corrin made to follow them, but Garnell caught his shoulder, holding him back. 

“Wait for it…” The Striker cautioned.

Corrin watched the soldiers with anticipation, gripping his sword harder than ever. The two guards stationed at the the front gate had attacked them, but been quickly dispatched by the sheer number of spearmen. Iolar and Quarden had formed them all into rough semicircle facing the wall, creating a kind of safety net to fall back into in case things turned south.

Emerging from the men came Uia, holding a… thing. It looked like a fancy plank of wood, which was a description Corrin never thought he’d be attributing something to. The mage made his way up to the wall, wary as if for archers—a plausible caution, but Corrin was pretty sure they had all been removed by Teren or given spears to fight with. Uia placed the object on the wall, pressing his palm against it and closing his eyes to concentrate. After a second, Uia removed his hand, leaving the object still attached to the wall. He fell back, looking very nervous.

“What was that?” Corrin asked.

A massive crash heralded the wall suddenly caving in on itself. Not collapsing or exploding; falling backwards as if pushed by earth Arcana—and powerful earth Arcana at that.

“Go!” Dain cried. “Go, now!”

Corrin charged out from behind the wall, all thought gone from his mind. Run in. Grab the banner. Defeat any who come between him and his goal—

What? What was that?

Corrin shook his head, then jumped through the hole in the wall, Dain at his heels and Garnell just ahead. Confused-looking spearmen’s arms tensed, tightening their grip on their spears. Corrin ducked between two of these spears, ramming into both men shoulders-first. They fell over with a grunt and a cry. He kept running, relatively oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes were set on the small, earthen building in the middle of the encampment: the banner would be in there.

To his right, Dain took on another soldier, this one armed with a sword. Corrin forged ahead until he was right beside the building. He didn’t lose momentum as he pulled open the door, ready to charge in and take the banner—

A massive, hulking body kicked him hard in the chest, not just knocking him off his feet but also a good yard away. With a groan he pulled himself off the ground, hazily looking up at the massive axe-wielding heavy-armorer. He took up the entire doorway by himself, not bothering to leave it and attack Corrin; he was their last resort to stall for time.

“Corrin!” Garnell shouted, barreling past a spearman and to his side. When he saw the guard at the door, though, he paled slightly. “Oh.”

“Do you think we can take him together?” Corrin asked, falling into a stance that Lars taught him years ago: knees bent, one foot behind the other, sword in front to guard his chest.

“Most definitely not.” Garnell replied, falling into a similar stance of his own. “But unless Uia can miraculously recharge that Alch-MT and blow down that building, we need to at least try.”

“Alright, then,” Corrin said, not bothering to ask what an Alch-MT was, “what’s the plan?”

“You see his axe?”

“Yes, it’s… hard to miss.”

“That’s a big axe.”

“I can tell.”

“Which means that if we get up close and personal to him, he can’t hit us unless he falls back. If he falls back, we can get through the doorway.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, then we push him back.”

“What’s stopping him from pushing us, though?”

Garnell chuckled. “You, o’course.”

Me?”

“Yup. I go and tackle him, and you spot me from behind.”

Corrin frowned. “You sure I have the, ah… physical capabilities to do that?”

“Geeze, Corrin; you may look like a kid next to me, but you ain’t no featherweight. Now let’s go! We don’t have much time to lose.”

“Lead the way.”

Garnell charged the man standing in the doorway, Corrin right behind him. The heavy-armorer was prepared for this, and swung at Garnell when he came into range. Garnell ducked under the attack, though, and tackled the soldier. Corrin slammed into Garnell’s back, shield-first. Garnell pushed against the soldier, Corrin pushing against him. The heavy-armorer pushed back, though, causing them both to slide through the dirt.

“Corrin!” Garnell yelled, strain heavy on his voice. Corrin dug his feet into the dirt, but to no avail, as the heavy-armored soldier pushed them out further.

Suddenly, Corrin felt himself being pushed forwards instead of back. The heavy-armored soldier grunted loudly, and both Garnell and Corrin stopped sliding. He didn’t have to liberty to look around and see who it was, but the voice from the anchor weight told him well enough.

“Who thought out this plan?” Dain demanded, grunting.

“Garnell, sir.” Corrin replied, also grunting.

“I should’ve known that Garnell’s solution to this particular problem would be muscle.”

“Hey!” Garnell replied, not straining quite so much as the other two. “Big heavy-armor guy! What did you expect?”

With a collective grunt, they all pushed forwards with all their might, and the heavy-armored soldier fell over onto his back. Corrin also fell over, onto his chest, as did Dain, but the captain recovered quickly to his feet. Garnell hadn’t fallen at all, instead dashing inside and grabbing the banner: an Enclave flag on a metal pole.

As the Striker ran out, though, the fallen guard grabbed his leg, tripping him. “Dain!” Garnell yelled, awkwardly tossing the banner to him. Corrin got to his feet as Dain caught the banner, then ran with the captain towards the gaping hole Uia had placed in the wall.

Halfway to the wall, though, there was a loud grunt, and suddenly Corrin wasn’t running beside anyone. Sliding through the dirt as he stopped his pace, Corrin turned around to see Dain collapsed on the ground, a blunted arrow sitting in the dirt beside him.

With a small, involuntary yell, Corrin ran to his captain, falling to Dain’s side as if he could do something about his collapsed captain.

“Take the banner.” Dain grunted. “We haven’t got… time.”

“Are you alright?” Corrin asked.

“I’m fine. Take the banner. Get out.”

“I’ve got to get you to a heal—”

“Take the banner, darn it!” Dain yelled. “I’ll be fine; just go!”

Corrin hesitated, a little taken aback by Dain’s outburst, then nodded and grabbed the flag. He stood, banner in his offhand. When he turned around, however, he was greeted by a sword-wielding soldier, who was running towards him at top speeds, sword held to his side with both arms.

The soldier, when close enough, swung at Corrin, only to find his blade deflected by Corrin’s shield. Corrin, in retaliation, jabbed at him, though doing so was awkward with the banner in his offhand. He managed to push the soldier back a few feet with his stab, then quickly scanned the battlefield for any who could take the banner from him. Garnell was wrestling with the heavy-armored unit, and Dain was still on the ground. Spearmen from both sides brawled back and forth, some with spears, some without. John was protecting Uia, and Teren was nowhere to be seen—Corrin was the only one left.

The soldier attacked Corrin again, but this time Corrin deflected his blade with the flagpole. He struck at the soldier’s side, smacking him hard with his blunted blade. The soldier grunted, but kept fighting. Corrin took a few steps back, giving him a few seconds to readjust his grip. He had never tried dual-wielding before, but no time like the present, right?

The soldier struck at his left, only to be deflected by the flagpole again. Corrin twisted his body, pulling the soldier’s sword behind him with the flag, and jabbing at the soldier’s chest with his sword. The soldier pulled back, then stabbed at Corrin’s stomach. Corrin deflected the blade with his own, then swung at the soldier’s head with the flagpole. The soldier brought his sword up, though, blocking the pole and then another attack that followed.

Despite his dual means of attack, Corrin began falling backwards against the skilled onslaught of the soldier. He found himself being forced to use both sword and pole to defend himself, unable to catch an opportunity to strike back. Once or twice, the soldier pegged a spot left undefended, leaving what Corrin was sure would be a nasty bruise sometime later.

As he deflected an overhead strike with both his sword and pole crossed into an X shape, he watched the soldier wince.

It hurts him to lean to the right, Corrin calculated, because of when I hit him.

Corrin hit something hard—the soldier had pushed him to the back wall. Corrin haphazardly deflected another strike aimed at his lower body, realizing a second too late that the soldier had, in fact, been feinting. The soldier hit Corrin’s side hard with his sword, enacting a grunt from him, then brought back his sword to stab at Corrin’s chest.

The sword shot forward, and Corrin stole his chance. He ducked out of the way, beneath the soldier’s left arm, pushing himself off the soldier for more distance. He came up behind the soldier, hitting the back of his knee with the pole. As the soldier grunted and lost his balance, Corrin spun around, smacking the soldier in the head with the banner.

The soldier collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

Corrin wiped his lip, even though it wasn’t bleeding—it was more instinctual than intended, as most fights he got into ended up in a split lip. 

“Good fight.” He told the unconscious soldier, then turned and ran to the hole in the wall.

Someone cheered as he jumped out, banner in hand; he couldn’t tell who, but it didn’t matter. He held the banner aloft for the squadron to see, panting from the exertion of the battle. The brawl between spearmen halted, half to cheer, half to sulk. Uia and Dain both looked relieved, while Garnell yelled something incoherent at the top of his voice. John went off to help the captain to his feet, while Garnell stumbled his way over the fallen heavy-armorer to barrel towards Corrin and slam him hard on the shoulder.

“That was awesome!” Garnell exclaimed. “When you whacked that guy in the face with the banner, and… oh, is that guy okay?”

“He’ll be alright when the Healers are through with him.” Dain replied, walking towards them—or, rather, being dragged towards them by John. “And I hope that I’ll also be alright when the Healers are through with me.”

“I should’ve just gone, shouldn’t of I?” Corrin asked him. “Just taken that banner and run?”

“In this situation, yes.” Dain replied. “What you did—or tried to do, anyways—was noble and all, but I wasn’t in any actual danger. If, during a real battle, I get hit by an arrow, but there’s something more important to take care of… then what you do is up to what you think is right.”

“Enough wisdom, old man.” Garnell chastised. “Let’s get you to the Healers and fix you up—I don’t fancy carrying a dying captain back to Camp Thunder. Corrin, help me out with this guy?”

“Yeah.” He replied, helping Garnell assist Dain. His mind kept slipping, though, to something Dain had said.

During a real battle.

This hadn’t even been serious—and yet it felt so real. What was an actual battle like?

“You alright there, Corrin?” Dain asked.

Corrin swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I think so.”

 

Yay!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A question for the readers!

I'm thinking of adding weapon stances for a bit of immersion and also character development, but I'm not sure what to call them. If they're standard Silverclad Enclave stances, then I might name them after the Arcane elements (fire, water, earth, air, gravity, and time), but I'm worried that things like "Firestance" and "Waterstance" are little cliche. Thoughts? Suggestions? Opinions? Questions? Concerns? I'm milking this?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

12 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

A question for the readers!

I'm thinking of adding weapon stances for a bit of immersion and also character development, but I'm not sure what to call them. If they're standard Silverclad Enclave stances, then I might name them after the Arcane elements (fire, water, earth, air, gravity, and time), but I'm worried that things like "Firestance" and "Waterstance" are little cliche. Thoughts? Suggestions? Opinions? Questions? Concerns? I'm milking this?

If you really want to.

If you do it at all call them styles, reading about the 'stances' in SA is weird because they aren't stances, they are styles.

Personally that's not my interest, but maybe other people like it, or you do. Write what makes you happy.

 

And, small note that you are welcome to throw away, can Corrin use his sword as a back up weapon? I know it's weird in fantasy but historically that's how it was, there is the Japanese(I think) proverb that goes something like "A swordsman, must be three times as skilled as a spearman, in order to defeat him." for a reason. Just small things that bug me about fantasy, but that is something that probably no one else will ever care about.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 hour ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

I'm thinking of adding weapon stances for a bit of immersion and also character development, but I'm not sure what to call them. If they're standard Silverclad Enclave stances, then I might name them after the Arcane elements (fire, water, earth, air, gravity, and time), but I'm worried that things like "Firestance" and "Waterstance" are little cliche. Thoughts? Suggestions? Opinions? Questions? Concerns? I'm milking this?

Maybe give them kinda new names?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Loading...
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...