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Lord Boar

Member Since 13 Jul 2009
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#410132 Iron Hand

Posted by Lord Boar on 02 August 2013 - 07:07 PM

Making one of my many random returns after long periods of vanishing, like I seem to do a lot. Anyway, this is a story I've been messing around with, figured I'd stick it up here and see what you guys think of it.





The midnight black panther of House Severan flew high over their keep. It was an ancient stronghold from the days of Xandros, positioned several dozen leagues west of the City of Justice. And their house was ancient as well, one of the first to inhabit the southern lands conquered by the Achaean Empire. They had once been powerful, now they were impoverished and near ruin. They had fallen far since their glory days, but that had not diminished their pride. And it was partly that very pride that had caused their demise. For over a decade now, the House had been locked in a bloody feud with the rival House Leon, represented by their bright red lion. Leon was an upstart House relatively new, but they had grown quickly in power and prestige. Worse for House Severan, their warring with Leon had come only a year after they had brought another brutal feud to an end, caused as well by their significant hubris.


The first had involved the leader of the House, Countess Maria Severan, ruler of the House since the death of her husband thirty years ago. She had heard from servants that in the City, a young Knight affiliated with a House their known as House Redwater, had made several unkind remarks about her. Rather than dismiss them, she had sent her three oldest sons, all Knights in their own right, to find this man and punish him. And they did indeed find him. But he was not a green warrior, but an grizzled veteran of many battles. When the sons of Maria demanded his apology for remarks he swore he had not made, he balked. Swords were drawn, and in the end two of the sons were dead, and their foe had been wounded grievously and was not expected to live. When he died, both Houses declared a feud, a fight that House Severan one but at no small cost.


The other fight, was considerably more justified in it's origins. The youngest son of Count Claudius Leon, had impregnated the daughter of the surviving Severan son, who was named Gaius. He demanded marriage, the son, named Cassius, scoffed and openly mocked not only the daughter, but the man and his mother too. This was an insult that would not be borne, and Gaius and Cassius would come to blows. The arrogant Cassius was handily defeated and yielded to Gaius. But the Severan did not relent. In wrath at being mocked, and his daughter's honor impugned he drove his sword through the prostate boy. And so Leon and Severus came to be at war.


Unless the Empire's very safety was as stake, the Legions would not get involved. Nor were the Royal Armies inclined to do anything, likely because there were many influential friends on both sides of the conflict, persuading the King not to step in. Most of the fighting had been done by mercenary companies, and occasionally ill-trained militia. These militia forces were drilling on the training grounds of House Severan, while Maria looked on. Turning to Gaius, who had recently suffered a defeat leading the armed peasants they both watched, she spoke.


"Perhaps now they will not run when a band of mule riding drunkards charge them." She said derisively, contempt evident in her tone and her words.


"Mother, you know as well as I that the Red Lances are not mule riding drunkards. They forged their reputation in combat many time over. They are professional killers, and these are farms clutching spears. You cannot expect them to stand and face the very men that they watch cut down their friends and family with no more difficult as if they were fighting children." He stated wearily. The two had this conversation all the time, and he knew exactly what her next words would be.


"I can. And I will! They will fight or I will personally see them executed. I will not have them run, and if they fear us more than they do our enemy they will not run." She snapped, as annoyed as Gaius that the topic of his defeat and the militia was again being discussed. "And I will hear no more about what I cannot do. My commands are not be debated. In two days time, this militia and our remaining mercenaries will go into battle under your command, and this time defeat will not come. Victory is your only option, my son." Her harsh words brooked no argument, and he only sighed submissively, resigned to his takes.


"Yes Mother, whatever you say." With that, he dismissed himself, unwilling to listen to Maria any longer without hope of changing anything. He believed their mission was foolish and would end only in death, but he would not dare to contradict or defy his mother. His father had died when he was only a year old, she was the only authority figure he had ever known and it was unthinkable to not obey her wishes. Especially not after he had caused this feud in the first place. The aging Knight daily thought of the moment his blade had drove into Cassius, and daily he regretted it. It did not save his honor, his daughters honor, and had only caused them misery in this conflict with House Leon. Ever since he had been a child, it seemed feuding was his life. The costly war with Redwater, and now for three years they had fought and died against Leon. Mostly, they had died.


It was no secret, they were losing. Claudius Leon was not an able man, he was frail and old. But he had great wealth, mainly due to their large merchant fleet that they held, their castle being on a strategic river mouth that met the ocean. But sadly, House Severan was landlocked, and did not have the money to construct a pirate fleet to threaten Leon's wealth. Leon was able to bring great forces against them, the Red Lances being just one of many companies in their employ. Leon had never brought militia into the battle, though with the money he spent equipping and training them he could certainly field a formidable group. Instead, he had kept them to defend his homeland and send his sellswords and raiders into the Severan lands. The most lethal of them, were those of the Iron Company. They were led by Marcus Tiberian, better known as Marcus of the Iron Hand.


He was a figure feared among all of House Severan, and even many of those in House Leon. He was once a Knights Templar, but only a few years into that Knighthood a rival had organized a gang against him. He prevailed when they ambushed him, but at the cost of his right hand. This was a serious disability, and Marcus abandoned the Order. Still, five years later he emerged from the South, a prestigious warrior who now fought with his left hand and was even better as a sword fighter than he had been. But in the place of his right hand, now a brutal fist of iron was clasped to his arm, not unlike a Knight's gauntlet. It was able to grip a shield, and besides that was a fearsome weapon to be used against foes. He wielded a falchion in battle with great speed and brutality, and the weapon was remarkable in it being made of Jasmine Steel, known throughout the Empire as the only man made steel rivaling dwarven craft.


It had been Marcus who he had fought when the militia was routed. The Iron Company, an infantry and archer combination force, had stood fast and engaged his main group, while the mass of Red Lance heavy cavalry swept in on his left flank. They were being commanded by the Iron Hand, who up until that point had not commanded other groups outside his own, which had deceived the Severan forces into believing that he was with the Iron Company. But when they cleaved a bloody path straight through the militia, who dropped their weapons and shields in a rush to escape, the battle was lost. Over half of Gaius' men-at-arms were dead, a large portion of the militia, and what sellsword companies managed to survive the onslaught were swift to break their contracts with Severan, keeping their gold and fleeing into the South.


Collapsing exhaustedly onto his bed, Gaius dreamed a terrible dream. His keep razed and destroyed, his mother's head impaled on a spike, his daughter taken by the enemy to be done with as they would, her son dead, and he himself crippled. Even when he awoke, sweat covering his body and soaked into the sheets, he could not erase the vivid scene from his mind.




Let me know what you all think.

#389456 The Lord of Corpses

Posted by Lord Boar on 21 October 2012 - 03:30 AM

-Three months later-

The trio of Centuries stood underneath a large and ancient oak, deep in conference with one another. Clad in the burnished armor of the Legions with the signature side-to side crest of the Centurion, it was these veteran legionaries that were leading the push into the forests that were just west of Hugin Keep, with three hundred soldiers under their command.The three centuries were overall under the command of the senior Centurion, Flavius Lepidus. He stood there in the center of the group as they discussed the best way to go about their task.

"If the rumors are to be believed, the Count is hiding within these forests, having fled from his former command of Hugin Keep. Hopefully, we can entrap him there, surrounding him and making him unable to go anywhere but towards us. Put his back to the sea, and he will with luck surrender." He stated, looking to the others for their reactions. At nearly two meters in height with eyes so brown they were almost black, Flavius was a physically imposing figure. The battle armor he wore, and the cords of muscle born out of years in battle and strict Imperial training made him look even more fierce. But the two men in front of him showed no fear, and that was good. They were Achean soldiers, they needed to be brave, both to lead their men in battle and to voice their opinion's in the war council.

"Indeed. As well, if we can trap their cavalry forces between the forest and the open plains we will be able to destroy their most valuable asset. The Count transformed their light cavalry into deadly archers and fighters. Do not forget, these are not the half-trained rabble that we are accustomed to. These are highly-trained, highly motivated men who know just how we fight. Whatever path we choose, we must use caution when we confront them." Replied Marcus Petro.

He was the youngest of the three Centurions, yet he had proved himself a most able commander and a superior swordsman to almost any he had yet to encounter. This was evidenced by his thin physique that ripped with muscle, and by the blade at his side, a depature from the standard gladius used by the Empire. Instead, the lean, beardless man had a Southern Imperial-style paramerion, belted at the waist. A single-edged, slightly curved blade, it was a blisteringly fast weapon, designed to cause the maximum amount of damage during the slash. It had been a gift from the Legatus himself, in recognition of the man's skill. The hilt was carved in the shape of a boar's head, and it too had a small curve to it, aiding even further in the paramerion's primary attack.

Finally, the third Legionary spoke out, Gaius Barabtus. "I disagree. If the cavalry break free or our ambush fails, then the enemy holds all the cards. Better to let us choose the battlefield, force them to attack. With the barabarians to their North, and the outlaws to their South, any attempt to break out of this encirclement there would be pure suicide. As well, we need to act swiftly to bring him back before the Tribe, or the outlaws decide to take advantage on our weakened Keep's. And if he continues his campaign of slaughter, they may very well be willing to do so. If we completely outnumber them, the Count may very well surrender to save the lives of his men." The half-Southren, and rather short man said. Hailing from Justiniopolis, the olive-skinned Legionary had been stationed farther North by his own request. To anyone who would listen, the small statured soldier would complain about the oppressive heat of his homeland, and often.

After considering this for a moment, Flavius hand smacked the hilt of his gilded parazonium, nodding. It was a short triangular dagger, wide at the hilt and coming to a fine point. "You make good sense, both of you. But we need to move. For tonight, we will hold here. Two days from now, we will advance and close the trap around him. Give the orders. Marcus, make certain the watch in place and the men are keeping busy. No idle hands. As well, tomorrow, all weapons, armor, and equipment will be inspected, make it known." The Centurion gave a short nod to indicate understanding, and then turned on his heel to carry out his duties.

As the man left, Flavius looked over to Gaius. "Get the camp put into place between those two hills, ensure the proper defenses are put into place. And get out scouts out to screen the area. If Lucius' forces do attempt attack soon, we won't be caught with our breeches around our ankles." He ordered, and other man left to do as he was bid.

Turning behind him to mount on his horse, he made his way back to his command tent. Giving the sentries orders not to disturb him unless it was an emergency, he retired for the night, reflecting on why he was here in the first place. But he knew in his heart that even though the massive amount of people that Lucius' soldiers had killed were Northerners, they did not deserve the slaughter brought among them, and it was only causing more damage to the relationships with the Tribes.

Let me know what you think.

#358410 Official Wulfgard Q&A Topic

Posted by Lord Boar on 13 February 2012 - 07:45 AM

Indeed! There's a parallel to the Battle of Teutoburg Forest in my WIP timeline file that is currently called the Battle of Blackforest (working title), in which an Emperor was killed and three legions were shattered when trying to invade the North. The leader of the alliance of tribes that killed the Emperor made his skull into a drinking goblet to further terrify whatever Emperor might follow him. It worked. Because the Achaean Empire responded by building Coldstone Wall.

Bonus points to whoever can name either of the 2 other historical battles that might have inspired this event. :D

I know one is the Battle of Adrianople, and I feel like the other is the Battle of the Catalauinian Plains (more for the numbers of bodies and ramifications than the victory).

And how would one drink out of a skull, I wonder. :P

EDIT: And also, what is the protocol for captured Northerners fighting against the Empire? Just curious, writing a fic about a particularly cruel Imperial officer.

#286044 The Tale of a Sellsword

Posted by Lord Boar on 29 January 2011 - 09:07 AM

This is the first story about my fan-fiction Wulfgard House, House Hale. Enjoy!

A torrent of rain came down upon the city of Caltha, just after a gladiatorial bout, yet the small seedy pup remained dry, save a small corner where the roof sorely needed to be patched. Sitting in that very corner, idly wondering when the rain would stop, was a stranger to the town. His hair was a fine golden blond, eyes brighter than sapphires. He had a square, strong jaw, and across his neck was a long scar, among several smaller counterparts across his face. A beard of hair as golden as the sun stretched across his face as well.

He was broad-shouldered and muscular, yet he was no knight. That was clear by the three large tankards of ale, drained, and knocked across the table in front of him. Nor was he a man-at-arms; for the square shield slung across his back bore no sigul. Clearly, however, he was a fighting man. On his right hip rested a long dirk, close to a foot in length, it's leather sheath well worn with use. As well, the hilt of a sword protruded from his back.

His name was Micheal Hale, bastard son of the late Count Tristen Hale. He looked around at the crowd, the chainmail leather surcoat he wore clinking as he shifted position on the wooden chair. His eyes set upon a large drunken Northerner, moaning loudly about how his favorite gladiator, a large Southerner man known only as Sultan Death; should have won his last bout against a small wiry Westerner archer.

"That archer cheated, I say! If you ask me, bows should be disqualified from the matches!" He proclaimed loudly, downing the renaming contents of what was most assuredly not his first drink of the night. Most paid him no attention, but from the corner with the leaking roof, Micheal spoke up.

"Well, nobody asked you, did they?" The low, somewhat rasping tones of the warrior questioned.

The tall Northerner, scraggly brown beard dripping with ale, turned, red complexion of drunkest blazing against the low light of the room's lamps.

"What did you say, dog?" The man's right hand moved for his back, whereupon a large claymore rested.

"Draw that weapon, and your blood will water the floor." Micheal replied causally.He was terribly bored, and looking for a fight, which the Northern man was seeming gracious to oblige him.

Drunken, the man paid him no heed, and soon the sound of iron on leather echoed through the bar, the large claymore now in the hands of the Northerner. A fellow Northerner, a small man with a flaming red beard, moved to join his comrade, drawing a short sword from his belt. The bar owner, a large, balding man, began to shout.

"No! No fighting in the bar! Take it outside, gods damn you!" He cried.

Micheal ignored the bartender, right hand flying to his dirk, tearing the weapon free of it's sheath. His left hand as well moved upwards, grasping firmly the hilt of his sword.

More to come. CC welcome!

#270816 Elements (CYOA)

Posted by Lord Boar on 02 November 2010 - 02:05 AM


#270811 The Wulfgard CYOA

Posted by Lord Boar on 02 November 2010 - 01:57 AM


#270810 Over the Sea: Part 2 - Sign-up\Discussion

Posted by Lord Boar on 02 November 2010 - 01:55 AM

Your up Hawk.

And I have a court? Sweet! Can Muffo be the jester? :P

#266883 What would you like to read a story about?

Posted by Lord Boar on 13 October 2010 - 05:30 AM

I really want to learn more about the Empire. The History before it as well. Just the Empire in general.

And the Knights Templar are very cool as well, I'd like that.

#266019 A Strange Town

Posted by Lord Boar on 09 October 2010 - 05:45 AM


#265737 ROLEPLAY: Over the Sea - Part 2

Posted by Lord Boar on 08 October 2010 - 06:42 AM

Sir William laughed in scorn. "Traitor Roland. Do you honestly think your word matters to me more than the word of the Emperor and the Left and Right Hand Paladins of the Empire? You barely deserve to be left alive, let alone be freed. Your oath is the same as you, worthless. An oath from one who betrayed his birth nation weighs less than a feather. Now stay your tongue, before you lose it." He replied coldly. Then, the ship titled. "In the gods name!" The Paladin cursed loudly.

William knew they couldn't stay there. "Guard the traitor please, my friend. I am going to get our supplies." He said shortly to his ally, Roland. Then he ran back over to where his supplies had fallen. He grabbed his rations and sharpening stones, wrapping them within his cloak. He threw his quiver over his shoulder, and took in hand his now empty crossbow. He'd have to load it later. Then, Sir William bolted over to his allies equipment. He grabbed the few things Roland didn't have on his person, and returned them to him. "Just one more thing." William said. He ran into the room Roland had been kept, and took the rations there.

He didn't want to have his prisoner starve to death. He hated the man, but that was just monstrous. As they walked out onto the deck, he paused, running back down to the cellar. He kicked the door open, as the lock had been shattered by the crash, and filled the remainder of space in his cloak with all the food and water skins he could.
then, Sir William made his way back up onto the deck, and both he and both Roland's walked off. Where a monstrous site greeted them. Literally.

"By the beard of Zeus." He muttered when he saw the two werewolves. Men ran to help. "I am torn my friend. I don' want the prisoner to escape, but I cannot just watch my crew mates die. What should we do?" He asked Roland. While he did this, he put his cloak stuffed full of rations down, and loaded his crossbow. He also loosened his sword in it's sheath. He unslung his shield as well. If they we're going to fight, then the Paladin wanted to be prepared.

#265011 Star Wars back in theaters and in 3D

Posted by Lord Boar on 05 October 2010 - 03:22 AM

Can we all just agree to disagree, maybe? I, for one, despise the prequels. but if Golden likes 'em? Hey, that's cool. Does it actually matter in the long run? Not as near as I can figure.

#264611 ROLEPLAY: Over the Sea - Part 2

Posted by Lord Boar on 03 October 2010 - 06:03 AM

((Nah, that's what I was planning anyway.))

Sir William looked at the man coldly. He was sorry about the man being shot. Truly, he was. But there was more than the Empire at stake here. "First off, the only reason that Dhamid was shot was becuase him and Hadrian decided that tackling Roland as I shot was a good plan. I truly am sorry, and was the first person to help him. But an unbound Roland is a dangerous one. In case you don't remember, Roland's the reason a good chunk of your crew is dead. It's not the Empire I'm worried about, it's not losing any more blood over this man. If you want your hands Nathaniel, let me do my job." William used the man's first name almost as a snub to the Knight. The Paladin outranked Marshals, for Poseidon's sake!

The very idea that this man was ordering him about was bad enough, but he could handle that. What got him angry, was that the Captain seemed to assume that he was incompetent and stupid.

#264240 Gangs an' Names

Posted by Lord Boar on 02 October 2010 - 03:56 AM

Volen: While I quite agree with you that almost any type of animal can be deadly; the Enomegs are designed to inspire fear. And when the general person thinks of Panda's, most of them think of cute and cuddly. Not the potentially deadly creatures they are. See what I mean?

#262070 Fred: The Movie

Posted by Lord Boar on 19 September 2010 - 05:36 AM

Please shoot me now. This is bull. I hate the new days of Nick.


#260478 Over the Sea: Part 2 - Sign-up\Discussion

Posted by Lord Boar on 11 September 2010 - 12:49 AM

Phew. That would have sucked.

That's it. If I live through this, I'm writing a fan-fic about William. Where he isn't embarrassed by you people. Like shooting himself, or crashing into a chamber pot! :P