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originally posted in:The New Dojo
originally posted in: THE DOJO
10/27/2017 11:32:57 AM
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[b][u]Chapter One[/u][/b] [u][b]Venimus, Vidimus, Vicimus[/b][/u] [b]Dojoville Center, now taken by the Trayven forces[/b] [b]6:41 PM[/b] [b]Trayven Head Camp[/b] ---------------------------------- [spoiler]Open, if you intend to be taken down by the stationed Trayvens and meet Freya.[/spoiler] "Thirty-six deaths. In one night." [i]Freya's fist rested upon the wooden table, the solid surface coated by maps of the Dojo, and the surrounding area of Dojoville and the forest underneath the mountain. A lamp flickered in the corner of the room, a small bed next to it, alongside a pack of the commander's armory and such. Standing before the woman was a cloaked knight, the cloth binding around his suit hiding away the helmet upon his head and back.[/i] [i]Freya Trayven herself wasn't biologically a Trayven, as she was one of the five that were not. The eldest brother would know that honor, she would not. But while he was off against the threat of darkness, and her eldest sister had taken to leading the front lines, Freya was wagering the war against the true enemy. The enemy of the people, in fact - the Dojo. She had created the assault plans, studied the previous invasions.. the Dojo had never faced an encamped enemy, however. They were used to spaceships and gun warfare - they would be surprised.[/i] [i]From a perspective, Freya was ferocious, in her own manners. She was above the average female height, at about five feet and ten inches tall, albeit a complete midget to half of the Dojo's members still. Her bodily frame was bounded by a deep purple and white uniform, buttons tightening the vest around her front, links of chainmail running through the uniform as steel plate coated her shoulders as pauldrons and wrapped around her forearms. Curls of short, blood red hair fell from her head, while those two bright orange gems stared down at the scout knight that had approached her.[/i] [i]She didn't initially believe the man, of course. The woman brushed past the armored knight, whom was only an inch taller in his armor, as she passed through the tent's entrance and into the lightly raining outside of Dojoville. Proud golden lion banners hung above the tents, a giant pole bearing the Trayven flag, instead of the Dojo's. Armored knights, calvary riders upon their steeds, armed soldiers, servants and squires rushed through the garrison, most simply nodding towards their commander as she approached the corpsmen stations, or rather the medical station.[/i] [i]The fortress was already something, in the few days that it had been stationed. The Dojo cared not for the Trayven, if which helped their cause just as much. No, it appeared that whatever had caused the wildfire had merely stalled their progress. Now, thick wooden walls, stationed concrete, and watchtowers made up the defense, while if one were to peer at the base from afar, they would find a slight, clear grey barrier surrounding it. About twenty feet from each wall, the barrier's fence would end, while it reached a few stories into the air. There were certainly more than a hundred there, to say the very least.[/i] [i]And the scout was right. Thirty-six dead bodies lined the ground, accompanied by two more that had been mauled and desecrated by Dojo civilians. The civilians that were taken by the Trayvens were bounded to wooden stakes, thrashing at their bonds. There were three, in total.[/i] [i]Freya would recognize these dead men. She closed her eyes, nodding towards the corpsmen to take away the bodies for burning. She would only then turn towards the first of the Dojo civilians. She'd regularly leave executions to others that were.. more fit, to the role, but.. no one would hurt her men.[/i] [i]So she took it upon herself to do it.[/i] ---------------------------------- [spoiler]Open to all.[/spoiler] [b]Dojo Gates[/b] "I deliver a message from Lady Freya Trayven!" [i]A cavalryman rode his white horse up to the Dojo's gates, circling around as he awaited an answer. In his hand, he held not a weapon, but instead a banner of Trayven - white and purple in color, with a golden, roaring lion head in the center. Upon his waist, was a tightly packed scroll of ancient parchment. He.. seemed to be waiting.[/i]
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  • "You've been on Takatai for how long exactly?" Alric asked, looking towards her. "Why conquer houses you can make Alliances with?" "A title and position say all about a person, wouldn't you say? I'm a Witcher. That gives you a clue as to how my life has been. Solitary, lonely, seen as a monster."

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  • "In an alliance, everyone pursues their own goals before they would see to another's. In conquest, they do the same, only that they serve instead. Or they are crushed. ...a quote, from Armillion. Gods, he scares me at times." [i]Freya would sigh at that, drinking.[/i] "I've tried to learn people outside of titles. Perhaps it's stratagem, but.. I don't necessarily develop friendships."

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  • "Friendship is overrated." Alric sighed as well, shaking his head slightly. "I prefer simple Alliances. Much easier to handle, both more [i]and[/i] less is expected. It's overall better if I may speak so boldly."

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  • "Continue to speak so boldly, if I will be honest. I would prefer that, over a friend who doesn't express themselves." [i]Freya filled up her glass with more wine, before offering the bottle of the drink to Alric.[/i] "Take it, if you'd like. Too much, and I'll probably fall off the battlements - I'm far from a heavy drinker, I suppose."

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  • Alric nodded in simple thanks, taking the bottle from her hands. He examined its writing, looking it over before looking back up at her. "I do not enjoy the after effects very much, but the drink itself can be quite pleasing." He stated, holding the bottle at his side. "Thank you, Lady Freya."

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  • "You use the term "Lady" quite a lot." [i]Freya would calmly jest, nodding towards the Witcher. Upon the bottle was "The Dragon's Delight" from a place called "Khaom". The liquid was a darker color than most wines, surprisingly strong in it's taste, as Freya would be the example as she closed her eyes and swallowed.[/i] "You think that they'll like each other?" [i]Freya would murmur, studying the conversing Dojo warriors and the Trayvens. It was a new sight, clearly.[/i]

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  • "We can hope they will. But the most likely case is that there will be tension." Alric sighed, looking over the Warriors. Already, it was clear that there were cliques being formed. Warriors joining together based on armour or weaponry. "Just as there is tension between other Alliances."

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  • [i]Freya had begun to notice it, as well. The higher ranking members of both sides took to forming with each other, while their recruits took to understanding one another. She couldn't disagree with it, it wasn't as if she and Alric speaking exclusively was any better.[/i] "You mentioned that they should learn to "live together". Perhaps it is too early, but are they succeeding? I see no drawn swords, yet."

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  • "They're forming ranks. Understanding each other, what they're capable of. Swords will be drawn by the morning, but none will die." Alric took a more philosophical approach to his explanation, as if trying to determine what exactly they were doing. "The stronger will name themselves the Frontlines. They seek glory, and to defend the weak. The weak are men and women who's sword play isn't as strong. Then come the archers, who are better with bows and arrows. This is war. You're killed, or you kill. The in-between is waiting for slaughter or saving."

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  • "I understand the concept of war. I've stood on those front line with the vanguard - the spear's point, we call it. I've driven swords, spears, tridents, and more into plenty of good men and women, and my brother and sister have killed just as many as I. War is what forged House Trayven."

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  • "War is what made me." Alric stated, a hint of sadness being heard in his otherwise smooth and calm voice. "War against the unknown." He laughed, almost sarcastically before he sniffled once. It was clear this was bringing up something.

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  • "...That's the most noble cause that I know." [i]Oddly enough, it was as if Freya had discovered a newfound respect for Alric, to some capacity, as she looked up at him. There was an understanding in her motionless eyes, as a silence took over her being, purely out of respect for him.[/i]

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  • "Heh." He cheekily grinned to himself, taking a sip from the wine bottle before lowering his hand. "If you're gonna live, might as fight your way through. A good lesson." Alric suddenly said, most likely referencing the Trayvern's history.

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  • "That's all that I know. Peace is.. a lie, to some extent." [i]Freya would drink from her glass again, as she would allow for Alric to lead the conversation. She seemed more shy than he was, to say the least. Not as outgoing, nor comedic.[/i]

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  • "Then what do you call this, my lady?" He asked, looking over to her. The moonlight shone in his eyes, and his grin fell away into a more concerned smile. This was... who he was. The comedy was a facade to forget about his past. He tried to be charming, covering his Witcher looks. He led the conversation to make himself seem... More human in a sense. Was that what he wanted? To be normal?

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  • Edited by Weeaboo Of War: 11/2/2017 10:59:41 AM
    "A ceasefire between two armies that have only begun to understand one and another, I suppose." [i]Freya said in response, as the two ideologies would clash together once more: alliances, or conquests. She closed her eyes then, recognizing that sad, concerning smile of Alric's.[/i] "Yet even then, we share too many terrible similarities."

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  • "Terrible similarities seems to be the dojo's speciality. We're not heroes, but we're not villains. That Grey area is where the dojo falls." "Once you fall into the Grey area, you can relate to even the worst that there are. The morally Grey heroes, or villains, or lovers, or... Well I suppose you understand the point." Alric chuckled dryly, take a long sip of wine from the bottle. "Nothing To be done about it."

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  • "Mm. True enough. We fall into the same issue. I don't want to label myself.. Isabella, my sister, would descend down into the darker zones. Arthur.. he's beyond that scale." [i]At the mention of Arthur, Freya would smile a little.[/i] "Where would I be, then?"

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  • "You caused this Alliance between us. If anything, I'd say you're a Lawful Neutral. I do believe that is the term people use." [i]Alric would shrug his shoulders, as if not putting thought into what he was saying.[/i] [spoiler]And yes, I know I reply quickly. It's a problem. [/spoiler]

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  • [spoiler]You're fine.[/spoiler] "A lawful neutralist.." [i]Freya would have to study the select words that had been given to her, by Alric. She would nod after a few seconds, drinking from the glass of dark wine once more, as she offered for him to fill it up for once last drink.[/i] "Hmm. You seem to be more of a neutralist, too. You took action and took the role of leadership, when no other would."

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  • "We do what we must for our people." [i]Alric gave her a cheeky grin, filling the glass halfway full.[/i] "I'm a monster that fights other monsters. The warriors only truly listened to me because I know what the fock I'm talking about." [i]He shrugged. Strange, that he wasn't taking any sort of pride in his actions. He wasn't getting paid, he wasn't getting any weapons.[/i] [i]What could he be gaining from this? From his leadership and his strides to bringing the people together? Perhaps he was just trying to redeem a past life, or perhaps it was something else.[/i]

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  • [i]Freya would begin to slowly question that, in her time of silence as she listened to Alric. The most likely reason was simply morality: that he wished to do good, hoping to redeem his past actions in the face of some higher being, or whatever friends that he may have had over the years that still knew him. She drunk a little again, still far from tipping over.[/i] "And I only lead, because that's been scrеwed into my mind from.. the start, if anything. My "father".. Armillion. Perhaps he sounds horrible to you, perhaps he sounds like a bloodthirsty conqueror to you as well. But he taught me to solve crisis for family, and for morality. To choose between being the dying hero, a fool in a puddle of their own blood, or a triumphant villain, standing overhead in victory. I'd take being the hero any day, because I don't tear apart another's life in my death."

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  • "I respect what I have [i]heard[/i] of your father, that much is certain. He does what he mus to ensure your, and his house's, survival." [i]Alric, had put it into more simple terms than Freya had.[/i] "As for what I'd do in that situation. I couldn't tell you what side I'd be on, but I sure as fock won't be on the bleeding ground."

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  • "...Armillion always loved his children. Always." [i]Freya said, with a slight sigh, before she would continue.[/i] "He could never keep a wife. The first time, he was seventeen, and had bedded a goddess whom assisted House Trayven. The goddess known to us as Thetis, the mother of war. Thetis blessed him with the birth of great Achilles.. whom has fallen, it seems. Before, Achilles rebelled against Armillion, when Thetis demanded his unwavering loyalty, even his soul. But Armillion.. he had other ideas. The second child is his only trueborn. Arthur Trayven, first of his name, heir to the Sunlit Throne. Arthur, while he is a knight, is also a scholar to some degree. When he isn't training, he seeks out knowledge. When he isn't enhancing his skills, he is discovering the wisdoms of kings before Trayve in the libraries. And he has always been good to me. The rest of us.. we are either children of other nations, of which the Old Lion took to caring for after our fathers and forefathers committed such unforgivable, terrible crimes against humanity. Isabella was the third child - a child of Khaom. A champion of the arena. A walking, living war machine. She would nearly kill Arthur in the Battle of Blacklake. Afterwards, the Emperor's Challenge would come, Khaom's championship for whomever would take it's jagged throne.. and Isabella twisted the Emperor's head off, ended the war on her own as an act of surrender, and resigned immediately. To protect her, Armillion conquered the city as the Khaomite forces stood down, and would take her in. Keep in mind, she was.. sixteen. Still a child, in our terms. As a final "fuсk you" to her homeland, Isabella stole the infant dragon of the previous Emperor, of which she named Ragnarok. Now, well.. Ragnarok is no infant. Afterwards, the conquering of Rivelria came, of which I would be taken into his guidance. Nothing much there. But Armillion would slip, eventually.. the Old Lion found himself with another woman, an unnamed one, and would birth two children. Twins. In Trayve, children born out of wеdlock, or bаstards, have the surname of Gold.. these two were Oliver and Niki Gold. Next came the King's final adoption, Julian, and the war that would render him sickly and weak - the War of the Two Lions. Even with all that Trayve had, with our strategy, with our hordes of gold, even with Ragnarok.. it was hell on earth. We would only win as Arthur drove a blade through the terrible Wraithking's neck. Julien, the corrupted king's only son, was a weak and shriveled boy when we found him. And now.. a fantastic mage. ...if anything at all, House Trayven loves it's family."

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  • [spoiler]Did you come up with this? Or did you get it from somewhere?[/spoiler] "Quite the tale." [i]Alric would say, simply as he took a long drink from the bottle of wine in his hand. [/i] "I wish I could tell you of myself, truly. But I do not know of my family. I am led to believe that my father was of noble blood, and my mother.... Was my mother." [i]Alric sighed, shaking his head slightly.[/i] "From the story my mentor, Nautilus told me. I was a weak and frail child in my young years, destined to die. When Nautilus, Witcher of the Cat offered up his services. He stole me from my parents, turned me into one of.... One of the Witchers." [i]Alric placed a hand on the cat medallion around his neck, smiling a somber smile.[/i] "I lived. I survived. When I should have died, I lived. Only, my mind was lost. I was lost. My body has survived, but I became a monster. Then, the Battle of Wolveshire Keep came." [i]Alric released the necklace, taking another long sip of wine.[/i] "That focking battle....."

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