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Post by Captain Gojira on May 11, 2009 17:17:05 GMT -5
Along with the rest of the Teutonic Knights, Vincent dismounted his steed, took the wool blankets given to him, and politely thanked the Knight before setting up a spot on the ground to sleep. He spread the first sheet across the sand full span, folded the other atop that one, and rolled the third blanket into a thick, cylindrical pillow which he also set down. Then, after flattening the sheets a few times, he lifted off his upper body armor, along with the attached cape, his lance rest, detaching all four staples, and set down both on the sheets. Beneath it, the rest of his plain, thick-linen shirt was visible, no different than the rest of his attire.
For a few minutes then, Vincent simply stretched himself after having been impeded by the armor for so long, which felt almost the equivalent to his weight. Squatting, standing, and reaching out his legs and arms to their greatest degree, the treasure hunter performed his routine with a deal of vigor before noticing Raynard on his own beddings. The man seemed preoccupied, as if still wondering about the Shayateen.
Perhaps he's encountered them before? he thought nearly enigmatically.
After another few minutes of his exercise, Vincent finally relented, came over to the Komtur, and asked, "Stört was, Raynard?" in a concerning tone.
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Post by Blade Knight on May 11, 2009 20:49:34 GMT -5
Snapped out of his musings, the knight turned and looked up. “Ah, Vincent. Nothing. Nothing at all,” Raynard answered. “Setzen Sie sich, bitte?” He motioned for Vincent to sit down and then rummaged around the pack he had beside him. He fished an orange out of the bag and tossed it over. “Vincent,” he began slowly, as if about to ask a question. “Why are you here in Outremer?” The query had a certain bluntness to it that made it sound harsher than it was meant to be. His light grey eyes were intense. “You’re not here on behalf of the Holy Roman Empire, are you? Speak truthfully, I need to know.”
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on May 11, 2009 23:49:47 GMT -5
In a few seconds, Kochevnik drained the entire bowl of water. He restrained himself from just gulping it down however, but took long sips. He set the empty bowl back to its place. His headache had almost instantly vanished along with the water.
When Velia spoke, he respectfully looked at her, but while answering, for some reason he avoided eye contact. It wasn't with an air of dishonesty, but almost as if he were childishly shy or uncomfortable about it. Yet...it obviously wasn't a discomfort in talking about himself. Just...something else. Instead he was constantly looking about the room, smoothly sweeping his gaze from one side to the other, his head turning to any loud noises outside the walls. Occasionally he'd look at her eyes again, but only for a brief moment before looking to something else. The motions were smooth and peaceful, not the sharp jerks of an anxious, paranoid. More than anything, it was as if he was hunting. Whether it was always like this with him, or if he was just covering for a lack of social comfort.
He gently shook his head at her question. While his grammar was excellent, the accented pronunciation of the words themselves stood in stark contrast to Velia's natural speech,
"No...I'm from the North-East, Kievan Rus. The region is...was well integrated with the Byzantine empire, though Byzantine splintered a short while ago. I only learned Latin from several voyages to Constantinople, on trade ships. "
He shook his head slightly, so as to not branch off onto a random subject. "I want to sincerely thank all of you, especially Navarre and his men. I think it's obvious that I owe my life to them. But I apologize, as I know close to nothing about this region. So pardon, but who are you? Where is this?"
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Post by Captain Gojira on May 14, 2009 17:21:49 GMT -5
As Vincent obligingly sat down with the Komtur, he went into a kind of comfortable crouch, caught the orange thrown to him, and happily began to peel the fruit, having been famished since his pursuit with the Shayateen. He was going to thank the man when, in a baffling way, the knight shot him a question.
"Vincent... why are you in Outremer?"
At that, the treasure hunter quickly looked up, giving a surprised, nearly clueless stare at Raynard, and noted his severe behavior. It was frightening, almost, how the Knight could be so light-hearted one moment, and then so dire the next. First it had been the Shayateen, and now Vincent's presence. Not that it bothered him in anyway, but still, Raynard's dire demeanor was something of concerning to Vincent. Perhaps it was expectable for one as prestigious as a Teutonic Commander, however the treasure hunter saw it.
"You’re not here on behalf of the Holy Roman Empire, are you? Speak truthfully, I need to know."
For a few moments, Vincent simply had no answer, caught off guard by the interrogatives. Then, slowly, he began to reply, "Na ja, I was sent here to the Outremer only shortly ago since The Siege of Acre ended, by the Riechliche Adlige of Goslar."
Before continuing, he plucked off a piece of the Orange and began to gorge the citrus fruit while talking.
"They are a coalition of Landlords and Nobles from all around Europe.... Normandy, England, even our own Homeland. I work in their service as a Schatz Jager -- a treasure hunter. Wealth is their only concern in life, their only goal, and the Crusades have begun to open an opportunity to increase their fortune, as they see it. So, naturally, here I am, seeking out any lost treasure on their behalf."
Continuing to consume the orange, he waited for a moment before adding, "But none are directly representative of the Church, Pope Celestine III, or even Henry VI. They are merely men of great wealth and power, and that is what matters to them... not to say their loyalty is elsewhere. But The Crusade, the Siege of Acre... all of it may simply seem like a stepping stone to them. And that satisfies me."
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Post by Blade Knight on May 15, 2009 17:45:37 GMT -5
Sir Raynard sat quietly as he carefully assessed all that Vincent had told him. But gradually, his expression softened and returned to the good-natured grin. “Danke schön,” he said in a relieved voice. “I believe you.” A fire had been started, and orange flames began to dance up into the night as men tossed any dry foliage they could find to it. To keep it alive, one of the knights brought out a smelly sack and threw it on as well. It was consumed instantly in a shower of bright embers, and the fire roared to three times its size. “Just ignore the stench,” Raynard advised. “It’ll burn away soon enough. Here in Outremer, people burn camel dung when it’s hard to find fuel for fire.” The light played across his face and gleamed off his armor as he stared into the smoky, flickering flames. He stretched out his legs and leaned on one elbow as he pulled out a long strip of dried meat from his bag and ripped a bite off. After chewing thoughtfully for a while and swallowing, he looked back to Vincent. “Such an adventure your life must be,” he said. “To travel the world, meet new cultures, uncover lost treasures. Such were the fantasies of my own childhood.” He gestured out at the endless landscape with a swish of his meat strip. “I have no doubt that here, in God’s glorious Holy Land, you are certain to find a great deal. Make no mistake, not all is fun and adventure in this land. There is a bloody war in progress, after all, and there is much danger. But I also believe that there is something… special, to this place. Let me tell you something, Vincent. As vassals to the Holy Roman Emperor, my family has owned a great castle in the Rhineland with a substantial village. When the call for a Crusade swept throughout Europe and Emperor Barbarossa assembled his grand army, I was among those to eagerly take up the cross. I was filled with excitement. To travel across the world and fight the infidel on Lord God’s behalf, to see the fabled Holy Land for myself, it was a dream come true. And after we finally arrived at the siege of Acre after so long, and then spent so long here fighting for the city, I fell in love with this place. That’s why I joined our new Teutonic order. Despite all the wealth and prestige back home, there’s something mystical about this land that lures me, and it is here that I have decided to stay.” Raynard had finished his meal by now. He pulled his sword close, leaning it against his shoulder, and reclined back onto the rolled up blanket he used for a pillow with his hands behind his head. “Get some rest, Vincent,” he said to the flames. “We ride before daybreak.”
Acre, Hospitaller infirmary “I understand you must have many questions,” said Velia with a nod. “I will do my best to answer as much as I can. I am a priestess in the service of the Hospitallers. We are a religious military order whose mission is to protect the Holy Land and its people. To this end, we establish hospitals and churches and fortresses, run by brother and sister monks and defended by elite knights. In fact, we and the Knights Templar are the two oldest and most powerful Christian forces in this ancient land.” Moving to a window, she opened it to let in fresh, cool air. It also allowed the mystical-sounding, chanting voices from outdoors to be better heard as well. “As for where we are, this is the city of Acre.” she explained. “Your timing is most fortunate. Had you arrived even a month earlier, you would have found the city still under siege. By God’s blessings, we were able to recapture our city from the Saracens after many years of fighting and that final, grueling siege. Now we finally have a foothold again in the Holy Land, thanks largely to the heroic defense of that German fellow Conrad of Montferrat in Tyre, and the timely arrival of King Richard.” Velia resumed after pausing to sweep a few stray hairs from her face, “We have established a headquarters here. We’re currently on the upper level of our priory infirmary. You were brought here instead of some field hospital because there was a great many men after you. After fighting all the way to the priory walls and barring the entrance against them, an angry mob remained to bang on our gate for the rest of the afternoon. You’ve been unconscious for two days since then.” She now eyed him curiously, one quizzical eye peaking through her long bangs and the other with a clear line of sight. “They were quite desperate to capture you,” she remarked. It looked like she was about to say something else, but she stopped herself. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Then she added quietly, “Maybe I don’t want to know.”
City of Jerusalem It took Azzran the better part of the night to cross the holy city, but he eventually arrived just several more blocks short of the city wall. There were no citizens out tonight at this hour, and the streets were eerily quiet. In the distance, he could see the huge, deep stone arch of the northern gate and the shapes of the Saracen guards protecting it. There was also an archer posted every few rooftops as well as on a nearby minaret spire. Jerusalem was well-guarded at all times, and especially at night; and the soldiers were not forgiving when it came to trespassing. Right up against the wall beside the gate archway was a large single story stables. It was basically just an assortment of horse stalls with a roof—there weren’t even any walls. And while there was certainly a number of mounts available, the chances of getting one past the guards were bleak at best. In addition to the stables, there were a variety of other buildings all around, separated like the sides of a canyon by the wide road leading to the gate. With plenty of diversity in the surroundings to exploit, the elite marauder would have no lack of cover or climbable structures. Indeed, if the complexity and precision required for stealth made it an art, then tonight Azzran would be an artist.
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on May 16, 2009 20:02:00 GMT -5
Azra'il walked forward, careful not to appear too out-of-place or outstanding as he made his way like a wraith in the rectangular building before him. His gaze flitted from side to side, his ears opened wide for information. He looked to every side, and his hearing leapt from conversation to conversation, an infiltrator of the caliber that could only be expected from an Assassin.
The Assassin looked about for any indication of an inn or tavern, any place matching where the two targets had come from. If the Assassin were to find such a place, he would walk to it, if not already listening to a conversation, and listen about that place, and watch about that place, for any sound or sign of the names Ghassan or Tamam. He would not allow those noises to escape his hearing.
If the deadly killer could not find any sight of these two men, he would wander near the alley ways until he found their names. Determined as a trickster like he could be to not disappoint the Rafiq, Ajib, or this 'Night Hawk', he walked through the crowds, letting no sound escape his hearing, letting no word fall upon his ears he did not comprehend. He would not fail. His hand ran across the handle of his Katar, protruding from the thigh holster as it was. And again, he thought, I will not fail.
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LoneWolf
Warrior
Companions are a luxury I can't afford|--|Lime gr
Posts: 249
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Post by LoneWolf on May 17, 2009 20:42:04 GMT -5
Azzran smiled gently, the ecstasy slowly rising in his stomach. The motion of the grin caused his veil to shift. He turned to the west, moving until he was about two house-lengths away from the stables and the Northern Gate. Then he moved down a seemingly deserted alley. Azzran utilized a stack of crates, containing unknown contents, bringing him within reach of the buildings roof.
He curled his bare fingers around the structures roof, and pulled himself up silently. Now getting to the stables would be much easier. relative safety ensued, with the height advantage, but was quelled by the known fact of the elusive archers atop the building tops.
The marauder scanned the general area to make sure there were no sentries before he would move on. If there were numerous archers nearby, he would retreat back down of the building, and think of another route. If there was no immediate resistance, he would begin his route.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on May 17, 2009 20:55:24 GMT -5
Kochevnik looked at her for a moment, his jawline tensing slightly as if he were unsure of what to say. Then he dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head slightly. He took a breath and sighed, then looked back up at her,
"Listen, I owe your order my life. I know almost nothing about the situation in this land, but I can fight well enough. If your cause is to protect people, then I want to help you. If nothing else, where I come from, debts should not be left unpaid."
Truthfully, Kochevnik was surprised at even considering such a thing. A few months ago, he would have thanked them, retrieved his possessions, and left. But now, for some reason, he had to wonder why. Why did he kill for money if he always returned to the war, riches or not? Something else kept drawing him to it, and at the moment he wasn't sure what. He'd never seen himself as an evil man. Maybe evil could only be fought by more evil...but if he was a warmonger, then couldn't he have some better reason than pieces of cold metal?
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Post by Captain Gojira on May 18, 2009 19:59:04 GMT -5
His narrow eyes fixed on the flames before him, Vincent continued to kneel comfortably as Raynard talked with a solid expression on his warmed face, not looking any in other direction and staring ahead at the embers deftly. It was rare for him to smile, whether or not he was in fact happy, but he did more so often with these Teutonic knights. It was like reunion with home in a foreign land, something he was always grateful for even when he did not show it. His face remained solid and unsmiling, but the treasure hunter felt amnesty with these Knights regardlessly, unable to express or show his joy as he would intend to.
"It is quite an adventurous life, Raynard." he eventually responded in a gruff voice.
"I have been to some number of lands in my time, and met many people from many places. Sometimes, the thrill is fulfilling enough... but at other times, it is also enough to be the death of me yet. I am no warrior, Raynard; I am only a man who seeks to travel and live life peacefully. With that, I would be happy."
He waited in silence for a few moments, and then, with a deep breath, concluded, "Well then, I suppose this night has been exciting enough for everyone. A good sleep to you, Raynard... und besten glück bis Acre.
With that, Vincent stood up again, started for his beddings, and glanced at the fire again with a dull reflection off his hazel irises as he walked, wondering what the next day would promise. Reaching his blankets, he sat down, pulled the first sheet over him, and laid back, pressing his head against the soft, plushy wool and closing his eyes. Then, as natural as the night, he let consciousness slip away.
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