Putting the Past Behind

[Lara Ashdown]

Lara watched as her mother strolled along with her friends, laughing with her hair flowing in the breeze. Her heart began to sink. Her mother genuinely did not care about her. For nearly a year now she had been clinging on t this small, curious hope that she was sorry for all the things she'd said, and would take Lara back. Then the two of them would put the past behind them. They would laugh and go out together arm in arm telling secrets and gossip to one another. Like the old days before Pa died.
Hearing a small cry behind her, Lara turned around. A small boy was running up towards her in tears. His left knee was gashed, with a small river of blood gently making its way down his leg. Poor thing. He had tripped on one of the loose rocks, half hidden amongst the grass. Slowly, she caught the little boy on the shoulder and whispered
"I have a small bandage for you. I could make your little leg better," she gave a reassuring smile. Rummaging around in her small bag, she pulled out a slightly crumpled strip. It was right at the bottom as these things always are when you need them. She sat down on the ground, feeling the damp slowly rise through her dress. Softly she tied it around the bleeding, knotting it into a small bow. Like the way her mother taught her.
Trying to put all thoughts of her family out of her mind she stood up and brushing stray green strands off her dress. Noticing the boy giving her a small toothless smile, she watched as he ran off towards the Fort. And against the horizon, Lara watched as her mother's blonde hair slowly vanish out of sight.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

((OOC: Mind if I jump in?))

It was a nice day to be spending in the grasslands. The breeze was soft and pleasant, the sun was shining brightly, and the fields were as green as ever. Although it was warm, the breeze was cool enough to keep you from boiling. Those outside seemed to enjoy it, and why shouldn't they enjoy a moment of peace such as this? It was hard to believe anyone wouldn't enjoy today. Yet, as hard as it was to believe, there was indeed a certain individual who was indifferent to many of the pleasantries of the day. This figure was approaching even as Lara was applying the strip of bandage to the child's knee. He was somewhat known in Lilan as "The Black Fortress", for he was clad from head to toe in ebon armor, a red cape fluttering behind him in the breeze. Leaned against his shoulder he carried a massive two handed sword in one hand, the naked blade shining in the sun, too massive to have a sheath. His face was covered by a black, squarish helm, obscuring even his eyes. He could not feel the wind, did not feel the sun, save for the slight warmth he recieved from baking inside his armor.

This man was Virdrag Thunderclap, a mercenary of great fame and skill. Over the course of his life he has served many different countries in battle, being in many losing and winning wars. He has no particular affiliation to any country, so long as they offer him a battle worth fighting and a decent pay. Pay was one thing that was not an issue for him; he could name almost any price, and would be hired, for he was feared and respected for his battle prowess. Villages were also known to hire him to take care of bandit or pirate troubles from time to time, all of which he obliged to; it was as if the man enjoyed to fight.

Virdrag watched on silently as Lara applied the bandage to the boys knee. It didn't take long, and soon the boy ran off, paying scant attention to the black knight. Perhaps he hadn't noticed, or, more likely, had seen the armored warrior before on a different occasion. It didn't really matter much to Virdrag. He was here to find work. He was hoping that Lilan might have come into a recent conflict with someone. Yet, on the same token, he hoped that the fighting would not reach here; although he loved to fight, he abhorred the suffering it brought, as well as those who used it for personal gain, sacrificing the lives of the innocent for no good cause. He spoke to Lara, his voice echoing inside his helm. Surprisingly, his voice was rather calm, not deep as one would expect from his size, but still deep enough to create a decent battle cry.

"Excuse me, young lady. I hate to disturb you, but do you have the latest news about Lilan's state of affairs? I have not been this way for quite some time."

[Lara Ashdown]

((OOC: not at all, its an open rp ))

At the sound of the stranger’s voice, Lara whipped round surprised. She had not suspected anyone being there, or at least, anyone who had noticed her. The colour on her face seemed to drain away. Her eyes were moving swiftly from the large sword to his armour, which covered his entire body. Even his face was hidden and Lara was forced to squint slightly in order of catching a more detailed glance at the figure before her. No matter how calm his voice was, his appearance was alarming. The redness of the cape began to make Lara think of blood, like that river of blood she had seen only moments before on the young boy’s leg. He could probably kill her within seconds – her only protection was a small dagger which now useless.

Taken a small step from him, ready to flee if necessary, she quietly answered his question as best she could, “ I – I would not know, s-sir?” she wondered, though decided that it sounded more polite to address him courteously “I have not been in The Fort myself for awhile now. I am s-sorry but I cannot tell you anything,”
A while! It felt like centuries since she had shut the back door on her house, on her mother. Awhile was a bit of an understatement. And now her mother would not care if her daughter wound up dead in some ditch somewhere….. remembering she was not alone, she turned one wary eye on him. He could be a murderer or a pirate and he was in disguise. Her imagination seemed to be running wild, telling stories of robbing the Navy’s ships, plundering their treasure, raping young women, attacking children, the list seemed to go on and on forever.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

Virdrag could clearly see the alarm on the young woman's face, alarm he had not meant to cause. Of course, he could not blame the young woman for her reaction. Even veterans of hard fought battles found him to be a terrifying sight; he was massive, and the armor only added to his fierce appearance. And, to some degree, they were correct to be afraid; on the battlefield, Virdrag was likened to a demon, and was even called that on occasion. He had no second thoughts or qualms about killing people on the field of battle. However, that was when faced with an opponent in a fair fight. Virdrag only slew warriors on the field because he valued an honorable, fair fight, not because he reveled in the blood lust of battle. His participation in war ends at battle; he refuses to loot cities or kill innocents, and has even been known to sly those he catches doing exactly that. When not "working", Virdrag travels about helping people.

In an effort to get the woman to trust him, Virdrag removed his sword from it's resting perch on his shoulder, then turning it so that the point so it faced the ground plunged to blade deep into the earth. Removing his hand from the blade, Virdrag stood there, his only weapon no longer in his hands. True, he could do quite a bit of damage without weapons, but then again, if had intended to cause damage, he could have cut the girl down where she stood without even saying hello.

"I ask that you calm yourself, young lady. I mean no harm to you or your people. My name is Virdrag Thunderclap, a traveling mercenary who makes his living of the chaos of that is war. Yet I would never harm anyone incapable of fighting back, nor would I kill off the field of battle."

[Lara Ashdown]

The man's words did little to soothe her worrying mind, but at least he was weaponless. That was certainly one thing. Still quaking slightly, Lara stared at the stranger, pretending to hold her ground. He could probably kill her with one hand if she was not careful armed or not. It did not help either that he had snuck up from behind, like a tiger waiting to pounce. Anything could have happened. Slowly she stuck out her hand, attempting to hide her small scar underneath the sleeve. It was rather annoying how it always seemed to prod out whenever she didn’t want anyone to see it. Lara may as well remember her manners, even if he could probably crush her hand with one go.
“Larissa Ashdown, but people just call me Lara. I – I used to live here,” she nodded over towards the fort, its twisted towers partially covering the yellow sun. To her it had always looked disgusting, an visual pollution. This man made object destroying the natural landscape.
“I don’t anymore,” she muttered quietly, her face darkening before turning to her strange companion.” And what difference does it make whether you kill on the field or off? Surely they are just as bad and as brutal as each other,”
She detested violence of any kind, whether it was childish bullying or soldiers in battle.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

Virdrag noticed the distaste at which the woman looked at the fortress. He could understand why some would not like the place; the fort was an unnatural landmark, constructed by man not for beauty, but for practical purposes. The walls were made of strong stone, built into a tall, bleak gray wall. Scattered along the ramparts were many catapults, loaded with stone and ready to be fired at any who dared to bring an army to it's walls. Guards always patroled it's walls, armed with spears and donned in armor. The gates were made of a strong oak, encased in hard iron; battering it down would be difficult. Virdrag thought of all these things with a kind of excitement in his heart; he was a warrior born, and such obstacles were merely interesting challnges that were waiting to be overcome, all that stood between him and glory in battle.

Clearing his head, Virdrag came back to reality, with Lara still regarding him with skeptiscism. Indeed, she had not seemed to have taken him very seriously, even when he had layed down his weapon. Furthermore, she seemed to distrust him because of his chosen profession. this came as no surprise, either. Many people had regarded him with malcontent because his chosen profession involved killing, and it involved profit, at that. But that was what most people got wrong; Virdrag made a decent penny off his fighting skills, yes, but it wasn't the reason he fought as a mercenary. As a sellsword, he had no allegiances to any country, and could thus work wherever he was accepted or wanted.

"What is the difference, you ask? Well, I shall try to make it clear to you, but some people have difficulty understanding my point of view. On the field of battle, men fight willingly, risk death in order to achieve victory. It is there where warriors meet to do battle, and being slain on the battlefield is a noble death worthy of remembrance. However, once the fighting stops, what honorable and noble way is there to die? To kill off the battlefield for no just cause is the mark of evil, and such villains are swiftly put to justice. Am I mistaken?"

[Lara Ashdown]

Noble. She remembered that word when her father spoke of it, strutting around the house after he had murdered men. Pleased that he had ended another’s life. It was disgusting, inhumane. His victims might have had family and friends, wives and children who they’ll never see again. They had lives which were brutally stolen from them. How much the stranger in front of her reminded her of father. Believing that purely because they were on a battlefield, it was fine to kill, or be killed. That the people they were against were just like them, with jobs and friends back home. It made her blood boil to think just how heartless some people were.

“But surely they are the same, a life has ended because of your blade and whether on the field or off you have murdered someone. Someone who may have had all to live for. It does not seem at all heroic and brave to me,” she replied coldly, wrinkling up her nose in disgust. She had promised herself she would never hate anyone, but it angered to hear soldiers speaking of death as though it was brave. Noble, even. But Lara had heard the stories, those that had returned from the fighting wounded, and there was nothing that sounded at all valiant. Probably the exact opposite. Lara tried to blot out the gory details, wash the horrifying images from her mind. Yet they still kept creeping back, hounding her endlessly.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

"The difference is small, indeed, and hardly comforting to most. However, that small margin, that fine line, is what makes the difference in itself. It is indeed heroic and brave to die on the battlefield for your beliefs, for true brave heroes are made heroes not because the kill, but because they have to conviction to stand up and fight for their beliefs. To die in such a manner, when other men would not, is most definitely a noble death."

Virdrag spoke sincerely to Lara, but even with these words, it was doubtful she would listen. Many self important people masqueraded as brave and righteous, killing in the name of their kingdoms. In reality, these men fought only to further their power and fufill their petty ambitions, caring nothing for true conviction and patrotism. This was why Virdrag was a mercenary; the only true thing that Virdrag believed in was war, because war was the only thing that was certain on this continent, and war was all he knew. He believed that, if he fought long enough, the path would eventually open to him. But that was another story for another time...

[Lara Ashdown]

There was some sense in it, Lara pondered thoughtfully. But there will be others who kill for power, aimlessly slaying others and destroying lives. It was them that she hated, the men that killed her father. They cared nothing that her entire family was ripped apart because of them. And the thing that angered her the most was that they were still breathing, possibly laughing away merrily with their friends in the many inns whilst her Pa was six feet under. Every bit of her body wanted them to suffer, she hoped they could not sleep at night after what they had done. Almost automatically, she glanced over at Virdrag in case there was some clue in his face or appearance if he had suffered. But she could see nothing behind that faceless mask. Sighing she flicked her hair out of her eyes and asked him politely as she could,

“Then why do you fight?,” she added quietly, still slightly afraid of the man, “You call yourself a mercenary so I’m assuming you fight for no allegiance. What could you possibly get which wants you to into battle,”
Only one word crossed Lara’s mind while she was asking. Money. No doubt people were offered enormous sums to put their lives in danger. Goodness knows how long her father used to sit there and brag about his work. He made the blood and screaming almost glamourous. It used to disgust her hearing him say things like that. Now she would give anything to hear him just one last time.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

As suspected, the girl asked why he fought. Still, it seemed as if he had gotten a through to her, if only to a certain degree. She still didn't condone violence from what he could tell, but not everyone was made for combat or war. And there were those who fought for intentions that were not so noble, masking it with fake ideals and lies. These people disgusted Virdrag and he usually wound up slaying them.


"Why do I fight? That is a good question, Lara. I fight for many reasons. I fight for a living, I fight because I know no other way to live. But mostly, I fight to find the very purpose of my existence."

[Nau'ren]

Thunder diffused through the ground, vibrations growing louder and heavier upon the earth. It was an ominous sound, usually portending a coming storm. But this. This was no thunder of the heavens. Its sound aroused from the ground, created by creature.

Looking up, the sky was far too clear for a storm. The only palpable reason to conclude the thunder was of that of horses. Their hooves gliding across the lands. Their untamed souls flying faster than their bodies. But these horses were no war horses. Their weight and strength wasn't as built up as one born for war-fare. These horses were for simple transportation. Their riders were not concerned with the horses' lack of strength, for there was no need in this time of day or season. Their strength was more leaned towards stamina.

Upon the backs of the creatures were no blood thirsty humans or smelling barbarians, but noble people of the Navy. Leading the group was Nau'ren, Supreme Lady of the Navy. Their position wasn't in a triangle, for that would be obvious to those around them. They traveled in a style as a caravan would. The only difference was they were galloping, searching for something, not a location. There were about a dozen of them, every single one with a perfect riding position.

Nau'ren was in no armor, but had simple plates across her breast and shoulders. All weapons were sheathed and asleep for the season. Bags were slung over the saddles, carrying goods for a trip. The Supreme Lady's hair was tucked away inside cloth. There was no need for a helmet. Her position in the saddle was that of a trained warrior's, but her dressed attire showed only the slightest hint of nobility and not that of a soldier prepared to attack or a peasant.

Coming over the grassy hill, the horses thundered. The healthy grassland provided no protection. If they were preparing for an attack or avoiding one, they would be tucked safely inside the forests. As two figures came into view, Nau'ren smiled and put a hand up to her followers. Immediately they pulled off and slowed down, veering to her sides. They didn't encompass the two, or else that would release a warrior's pose. Weapons still sheathed, they all stared, intrigued at what their Lady was going to say.

She began to speak. "Greetings from the Lilan Navy." She did not state who she was, yet. "Excuse our interruption in your daily schedule, but if you could answer this, you' be doing the Navy more of a favor than the scouts who inform us." She paused slightly then went on, "This day, are you two Drifters? We will inform you of our purpose and poise as soon as we understand yours, as we see you are among the Navy's lands," she said with a smile and lifting her head as if to point out where they were if they didn't already know.

[Lara Ashdown]

“There must be another way to make a living surely,” she replied, saddened. She pitied him, not knowing any other way of life but war. It seemed inconceivable to her, instantly thinking of hundreds of different thing Virdrag could do. But she had spent many years mulling over this. Not many people thought about the fighting; some were trying to blot out painful memories whilst others tried to pretend it was not a problem. Lara had thought about it continuously, trying to phantom out why the war had begun in the first place, or if there was another way without bloodshed.
“There must be more than fighting and death, though goodness knows you would hardly know it looking around” she sighed. Not one family had not lost a family member or someone close to them.

Hearing sounds behind her, Lara turned around to see a group of people on horseback. Her heart dropped. She was in trouble if one of them recognised her. Going back to live in her small dingy house seemed unbearable now. At least out here she was free to do what she wanted, never having to worry over her mother. Quickly she pulled the dark hood on her cloak over her head, tugging down as far as it could go. Her face must not be seen, or it was all over. As they were coming closer to them, all of her fear seemed to disappear, instead replace with hatred. The leader had pale skin and brown eyes. Nau’ren. Her father used to talk of her, he never shutted up. To him she was wonderful but to Lara she was the real killer. It was her that had sent her father into battle. Looking up at her smiling down at them, another wave of fury grasped hold of her. The woman could not care less that these men had died under her orders. She would not sit there and grieve the fallen, instead she would plot another attack to kill more innocent lives.
“I am a drifter,” she retorted coldly, glaring under her hood, “My purpose here is of no concern of yours my lady, in fact I believe my reason for coming here now no longer matters. I am leaving as soon as I can,”
And never coming back she thought darkly, still cursing the woman in front of her.

[Virdrag Thunderclap]

Virdrag painfully admitted to himself the truth in Lara's words. True, he could have gone to work as a laborer, or perhaps another trade, like blacksmithing. But he could do no such thing. It wasn't that he was incapable, but rather, war was his being. When he was doing something that wasn't warlike, he never felt whole. Only on the field of battle did he feel truly at home, fighting only for himself and his personal goals, not his personal gain or for anyone else's gain, at that. Perhaps, one day, he would find what he was looking for.

Virdrag turned at the sound of the strange thunder. He knew it well; the sound of horses, a large group of them. Calmly, he reached for the handle of his sword, resting that blade in front of him. Despite looking menacing, he looked regal, his black armor well polished and his cape fluttering gently. He made no motion to attack; the group approaching was not dressed for battle, and did not seem to wish for an engagement. Therefore, unless it was started, Virdrag did not intend to fight. He listened politely to the woman's question, regarding Drifters. She seemed to be in search of something, or someone. He had a feeling they were about to find out.


".....Yes, I am a Drifter as well. i go by Virdrag Thunderclap, freelance mercenary. What is it that you would ask of us? A matter of no small urgency, I take it."

[Nau'ren]

Nau'ren first looked up to the lady. She had a dark hood pulled over her face. Nau'ren respected she didn't want her identity to be released to the world. If she was hiding from Nau'ren, on the matter of a murder, ambush, etc., she would have more of a nervous voice that choked on words.

Then Nau'ren's eyes shifted to the one known as Virdrag. She nodded to them both. "Well Sir Thunderclap and Miss, we are recruiting all of those who wish to train and/or start over from their past." The lady paused and went on, the light breeze tugging at her horse's mane, "Unfortunately our lands cannot go unprotected as our foes plan for attacks in the coming seasons. The Navy has decided to teach any with an eager heart to battle in the never ending wars." Nau'ren bowed down her head and continued, "Sadly I must say." Her voice went quieter at the words of the never-ending wars. Peace can never be reached in length across the world, but one can find it inside their self if they truly desired. Nau'ren was on the verge of finding the peace within her. After everything she has seen an-

The lady looked back to the two figures before her thoughts could wonder off. "Our apologies if we have interrupted you this fine day, Drifters. We just don't want to miss a single soul who wishes to join us and maybe find the slightest strike of peace." It was no lie. Nau'ren was a protector of the land and the people. She would never wipe her boots on a peasant or drive her sword through a serf. Actions such as that couldn't sentence her to death, but she would sentence her own self honor to death. What she thought of her self would wither and never return to full bloom.

[Lara Ashdown]

Hearing her talk of recruiting made Lara more furious than ever. How could she talk of such things when hundreds of men are dead because of the wars? And what about those who were maimed but not killed? Her old neighbour had been like that; he lost his hand during a battle. After that he was treated differently, people would ignore him if they possibly could and even if they were forced to talk to him it would be very short, one word replies. He was probably smarter than all of those fools put together. It infuriated her then, and it still made her blood boil today.

Had the other navy soldiers not surrounded her, Lara would have said this all to Nau’ren and probably some more. But she managed to remain silent, curious to how Virdrag would reply to her offer. She thought it would be interesting to see how much he would risk his life for. There was still a part of her terrified to her wits end, frightened that someone will say her name and identify her. It was still a small possibility, but Lara could attempt to flee. Though with all of them on horseback it would be a very slim chance of escaping. But she would die trying to run than be caught and forced to go back.
"Yiu believe peace can only be found through war?" she asked quietly, still trying to see if there was any familar faces who knew her.