Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Night had fallen on the outskirts of Lodan, but one particular building still seemed to be bustling with life. Inside the building there seemed to be all kinds of fighting going on. Gladiator fights, cock fighting, you name it it was taking place here. In the chaos of it all a giant was chain up to a wall. He looked like he had been there for a while as his brown hair and handle bar mustache was unkempt. A man approach the giant and grinned, "Oh don't worry Spinebreaker, you will fight in the next match," He said before he delivered a blow to the giant's rib cage.
The giant winced and growled at the man who laughed and area where the giant was chained up. The giant grumbled to himself, "Krunk does not like being chained up like animal..." It was then that there was a call throughout the building.
"EIRAL IS HERE! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" The voice called out, which then plunged the entire building into chaos. The giant known as Krunk blinked, What was EIRAL? And why was it causing his captors to go into a panic? He hoped that whatever it was, it would get him out of here.
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
Business as usual, going from one fleet to the next—talking to the troops, interacting with the troops— installing Juggernaut, and other projects. Life, steadily draining from the elder woman, from the army, but the fact is that they needed more troops. War is costly— especially when it comes to lives. And they, they were running out— running out of life, running out of energy, of soldiers. Tomorbota could only give so much, after all. They needed to access more troops, more people willing to fight for them, but how? Kunchen stared over a group of soldiers training from her office window. Their movements were shaky, uncertain, all fairly young—still fresh, still like a newborn, uncertain of how to fight. Kunchen shook her head. How pitiful the war had become, reaching to children for assistance.
By her side, Sandsworth talked, his mouth never silent as he relayed their future tasks. Some tasks mattered more than others, some mattered little, yet Kunchen listened for a possibility— for an option of more troops. Turning a page, Sandsworth read over the reports from the surrounding outskirts. “There’s been a detection of fighting rings in the outskirts. It seems fighters have been imported—“ “That,” Kunchen interrupted. “We shall do that.” “…A fighting ring?” Sandsworth questioned, furrowing his brow. “You want us to build a fighting ring?” Kunchen shook her head, shooing him slightly. “No. Send a troop of however many you see fit. Shut the ring down, and recruit. Confiscate supplies, arrest those involved— and the fighters. Recruit them, if they are willing. If not, judge their circumstance and act appropriately,” Kunchen relayed, approaching her desk. Papers and folders were strewn about. A particular folder caught Kunchen’s eye with an image of a woman attached to the corner. Kunchen tapped the folder. “Send the Glaspeda girl as well. Her father wanted a test, and I shall give it. If no work, act appropriately as well.” Legal business was Sandsworth department. Hers was fighting, was tactics, was plan. After all, whole Lodan army different from Tomorbotan army.
Scoffing some, Sandsworth grabbed the folder and the other reports, muttering something about “a foolish plan” but he had learned a long time ago that questioning Kunchen led to a bickering, which always ended in Kunchen offering to treat him to a meal. The bickering was fine— perfectly civil, sometimes amusing— but it was the consolation meal that was the worst part. After all, there were some things in this world that were not meant to be eaten, all of which somehow ended up on Kunchen’s dinner plate. Lord, was her country’s rituals a strange one. “Yes, Commander,” the younger man muttered, and Kunchen nodded in response, watching from the window the youngsters train once more. It wasn’t like the fights she was used to watching, but these were amusing. These were fought with overgrown sticks, but still they acted like children— but the army could not only be filled with children. No, what the army needed was real fighters. Men and women, hardened with training, with experience, and not new borns. “Let’s see what this fight brings,” Kunchen muttered, taking her seat at the desk as she sighed, wondering, really, what she should make for dinner.
The night was fresh, crisp, the wind nibbling on the Leandra’s neck. Eyes furrowed as she scanned the facility, the other troops standing by her sides. Thirty footmen, some other high recruits, along with local officials all in formation to approach the building. A steady task force, primed and ready to fight. Perhaps a bit overpowering for a fight ring, but they wanted to be precise— to let no one escape without trial. At least, that is what the higher ups had informed them. Leandra grounded her teeth, her heart stuttering inside of her. This would be her first mission. Her training had been going on for a few weeks, yet her hands were shaking as if this was her first day all over again. How foolish, for her to have such a fear. Her father had bid her off with a pat on the back. “Finally living up to the Glaspeda name, hmmm?” Leandra’s father, a captain, had congratulated her. Was happy for her— no, that was incorrect. Was happy for himself. After all, his little niña was going to fight with no mention of women in her bed or ander in her blood. After all, a sword did not require tech, and a uniform covered her back fair enough— and women, it seemed, were harder to find in the army then they were in a house full of maids. Indeed, she was an experiment for everyone. A guinea pig. A guinea pig for her father to regain honor, and for EIRAL to test an Ander. Always tests, always trials. But now, now was time for action. Warning bells sounded first, and soon, the captain signaled for everyone to get to their stations. She, along with her fellow soldiers would infiltrate the back, where the prisoners lay. There, there she and the others would round up the fighters and deliver their rights. However, other branches could attack the front, where guards could be placed, or attack the sides where nobles would flee. Yet, it was not her task to be concerned with those areas. No, she focused on the task at hand, and that was to attack and defend. Taking another step, she held her sword tightly and marched forward, her boots, cracking into the frost covered land. Little resistance was met from the back— a few soldiers easily taken care of, a simple dodge and parry here and there. The guards were trained, but not like she was— not like they were, and they crumbled before her. No, the only problem was the door, but even that was taken care of as other soldiers went about and busted the door open with explosives as other explosions rattled throughout the building. But, getting inside was only part of the problem. What lay inside, however, was a whole other story.
Of course, with the whole fact of being found out, some ruffians gave resistance. However, they were street thugs vs and army...you do the math. IT isn't really that complicated. The giant heard the commotion as he tried to get a better view of the situation. The man who had thrust into his ribs had already been stabbed one...two...three...oh boy that was too high for the giant to count. Krunk tugged at his bindings as hard as he but they were well made. Seems the ring didn't want anyone escaping.
The giant grunted as a jailer fell to the ground as several keys fell from his pocket. They gave off a slight glint. One of these keys was the key to Krunk's freedom. The giant tried to motion or say something but couldn't find the words or the right volume. He was rather weak right now after all. He just had to stay there and wait for a would be savior.
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
Gladys was one of the people assigned to joining in on the raid, which she wouldn’t complain about; it was more work than she was usually given after all and it was better than wandering the streets trying to bring in new recruits. She had joined the party infiltrating the back of the building. The thought had been that a medic would be able to help patch up the injured prisoners and hopefully encourage them to join the ranks. Still, fighting was expected to occur so Gladys did bring her steam gauntlets, one strapped to each side of her belt so that her hands could slip into them if needed. Extra canisters were in her pockets She would have worn the boots too, but she didn’t want to be hindered that much from the movement. A footmen in the back had a pair in his back in case she did need to retrieve them, however. She just planned on not needing them.
With the added weight of her medical supplies on her back, she was already limited to being in the middle-back of the party moving forward, but that was alright with her. She held her sword out in case there was need, but she was thankful that the front runners were knocking out the people before they got to her. She preferred to stem the blood flow, not start it. So for the time being, she was happy that the new girl at the front would take care of the fighting. Gladys didn’t recall seeing this girl around, but that didn’t bother her. All the faces of EIRAL tended to blend together after all; some days she felt like she didn’t see the same face twice.
Once the team had the door down, she tried to pick up the pace some. She was needed inside more than outside, but she wasn’t sure what to expect once she passed though the doorway.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
Block, dodge—strike, recover. The actions were a melody in Leandra’s head, blurring together as she stepped forward, stepped back— a dance. Like the kind her father used to dance with her—a salsa, turned into a waltz. She had been tiny back then, only just a girl. But now, now she was not tiny, nor was she a girl. No, she was a woman— and women don’t dwaddle. Spiraling black hair tied into a braid dangled over her shoulder as Leandra tilted her head, seeing that the second wave had already gotten inside. The number of thugs were limited— their ranks diminished as soldiers went about handcuffing the brutes. Breathing heavily, Leandra made her way inside, sword poised to combat any foes however anyone lingering was either EIRAL or prisoner— others had already fled through the back or were making their way to the front where the main attack was. Wheezing, she glanced about the room as soldiers went about checking cages, rooms and so forth— the screams of women, of people shouting “medic!” and of course, the rustle of movement all melting together to dull Leandra’s hearing. Yet, her eyes caught a large form, pressed against the wall, chains holding him down. His form was large— a giant— protruding from the wall— hair, jostled, like an animal. Leandra wondered if he wasn’t human— an Ander perhaps, or some sort of beast— chained, battered and beaten. She swallowed, breath steady as she approached the figure, ever silent. Lifting her chin, she poised her blade, caution, etched into ever step. “Sir. Are you alright?” She questioned, although she would have preferred to be quiet, lest to stir the man. However, that is not what she had been trained to do. First, judge the situation. Address the situation. Then act upon the situation. Leandra’s hands tightened around the hilt of her sword. “Do you need a medic?”
The giant looked up as he saw the woman approach him. This did, cause the giant to stir, "Krunk is fine," He said calmly. Of course it was hard to tell whether the giant was saying that to easy the worry of the woman or if he was actually fine. Of course if one looked closely enough it was easy to see a large amount of cuts, bruises, and other injuries. Granted there were no broken bones or lacerations, but the giant did look banged up.
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
Given that nobody else was in need of immediate attention, Gladys found herself looking up at the large man, self-described at being “Krunk.” She took a breath and then reached into her medical supplies, pulling out some bandages and disinfectant in the form of ointment (it worked better on wounds that weren’t fresh). “I’m going to tend to your worse wounds. Which ones hurt the most?” she asked, relaxing somewhat as she went to work with the first of the serious cuts, one on his leg. From there she'd move on to whatever one he identified as hurting most. Gladys didn’t pay any mind to the woman that had questioned him, assuming she’d move on in a moment anyway.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
Easing the woman’s worry should have been the last thing on the stranger’s mind. Leandra’s voice had been icy and distant, her eyes—even then— still a piercing brown as she scanned his barren chest to the bruises that patch marked his skin. “Krunk” was hurt—but was saving face apparently by stating otherwise. Was it because she was a woman? Did he not want to appear feeble in front of her? To appear weak in front of a woman was a man’s sin, her father always told her. How foolish if this stranger shared the same sentiment as him. After all, he seemed to refer to himself in a holier tone. Leandra couldn’t help but twitch at that thought that he deemed himself above her. “I’ll call for a medic,” Leandra muttered, turning slightly only for said medic to appear beside her. Colder were the blonde woman’s actions, causing Leandra to raise a brow— especially how she disregarded her. It made Leandra’s clench her teeth as the taller woman furrowed her brow at the medic. “Would you like me to cover for you while you tend to him?” Leandra’s voice was level, although sweat beaded under her helmet guard, anger biting at her fingers as she tightened her grip on her sword. “Lest you be attacked with your back turned.”
Of course, Krunk being Krunk, had no idea that referring to himself in the third person was a bad thing. Thankfully though, someone saw through the ruse. Krunk couldn't deny it, he was hurt from the constant fights. He looked at the medic and began to speak, "All of them..."
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
Pausing in her work with wrapping the wound, Gladys had to blink in a moment as she turned to glance back at the soldier. There was a bit of surprise on the medic’s face, but she continued blinking until it faded away. “That would be helpful, yes. But if you are needed elsewhere, I’m accustomed to keeping an eye over my shoulder.” She did her best to keep the words from sounding bitter, but it made them sound hollow instead, at least from her own perspective. The woman might get a different reaction, but so be it.
Looking back at Krunk now, she finished tying the bandage on his leg and then moved to one on his chest. “I’ll tend what I can now and then we’ll get you out of here to address the rest.” As she spoke the words, she realized that the man was still chained up. Were the keys around here? She wanted to stop and look for them, but with infections as bad as the ones he had, it would be best to treat them first. She could always use brute force to break the locks, should it come to that after all.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
The look of surprise went unnoticed as Leandra turned away slightly, scanning the perimeter. Women ran from one of the aligning rooms, scared as another soldier chased after them, urging them to “halt,” and “that everything was okay.” Indeed, Leandra could go assist the male soldier, but another female one was already coming to his aide. Otherwise, the next group of soldiers was already moving in and heading further into the building. “My instructions were to tend to the captives in the back of the warehouse. I feel that I am meeting the quota by guarding you.” Leandra stated, holding her stance as different voices melded into the fray of the storage room. “Besides, a medic should concentrate on her patient, and not her shoulder, no?” Leandra muttered, eyes glued to the distance as she took a step forward. Then, a rattling. Looking at her feet, she noticed the keys, the dusty metal seeming to glimmer in the faint light of the room. Picking them up, she inspected them. Without turning fully, she kept her eyes on the door that led to the arena, waving her hand back toward the medic. “I think these are his keys. Take them, and free him when you see fit. I need to set up something,” the taller woman muttered, placing her sword in its scabbard.
Krunk saw the sparkle and heard the jangle. Those were the keys to his chains alright. The giant attempted to squirm, "If Krunk can get free," He said to both of the women, "Krunk will fight for you until Krunk's dying breath." He said. He sighed, he was desperate now. He'd probably just sold himself into another life of servitude. But then again, anything was better than being here.
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
Gladys nearly snorted at the soldier’s comments. It was clear now that she was either new, or she was so isolated that she missed out on all the degrading comments other soldiers spoke about the medic. Biting her lip though, she shook her head; the fighter would surely come to treat her as everyone else did so there was no reason to get hope up. But for now the fair treatment was nice. Gladys didn’t speak a word of complaint as she worked, only pausing to turn around and claim the keys.
Looking back at Krunk, Gladys glanced over his body, mentally counting how many more wounds she should treat. The worse few were wrapped up already, but the one on his shoulder was pretty bad. …Unfortunately he was just a bit too tall for Gladys to comfortably reach it, to it seemed that unlocking him would be necessary now. “I’m going to unlock you. But before you do anything, please sit down so I can treat the wound on your shoulder,” she paused, pointing to it. “After that, you’ll be free to leave. Or stay and fight if you so choose.” She wasn’t one to boss a guy around, and he might have a bone to pick with the people who chained him up here. After pausing a moment to set her supplies down, she reached up, just barely being able to reach the lock and slip the key in. With a quick turn it opened and she moved over to repeat the process with the other one.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
Although the woman took the keys from Leandra, her actions were cold, were stoic. A rigid air of distrust that would have made Leandra pause if not for their environment. This was still the battlefield, after all. Ease and gentleness had to be limited in such a time. Unlocking the crossbow from her back, Leandra took aim toward the opening of the arena, where more clanging could be heard. Yet, shouts were sounded— mixing with heavy scrapes, of heavy footsteps. The moving of the giant stirred Leandra’s senses, making her gaze to him, yet her bow was still aimed at the door. Fight for them? What a strange request. But, in light of the situation, perhaps not misplaced. “If you do wish to aid us, that would be appreciative. However, do not swear your loyalty to us. Swear it to EIRAL,” Leandra stated, straightening as Men and Women in EIRAL garb retreated from the arena door. There were shouts and signals being thrown about, mixed with a roar as a bull entered forth from the arena, bloodied and panting heavily. Arrows protruded from its body, scrapes aligning its skin. It was wounded, but it too, seemed to have wounded many as well, it’s horn coated in a thick layer of blood. Leandra furrowed her bro, confused as to why such a creature was there. Had the fighters summoned a bull for sport? Regardless, the soldiers made sure to clear the way for the animal, yet it thrashed, chasing after them. One soldier aimed to calm the beast, but was barely able to avoid being gouged himself as he side stepped the rampaging animal. However, one person was not as lucky. A man, caught off guard and blocked was pinned as the bull ran into him, nearly trampling him. Yet, the beast thrashed in its anger, sending hoof upon bone. “Shoot!” Leandra hissed, reaching around to pull upon the girl’s shoulder. “Medic, we’re going to need you on something else first— Get the bull away from him!” Leandra shouted, urging for the others to distract the creature as she whistled, trying to get the bulls attention.
Distraction? Pah! The only thing the bull needed to worry about was the giant barreling towards him who was roaring loudly. The giant tackled the bull off the man and sent into what looked to be a booth area. The male cow slowly got up and huffed. Krunk had actually fought this bull one other time with him being the victor...surprisingly. The bull knelt its head down and charged at Krunk. The giant grinned and grabbed the bull's horns in an attempt to slow it down. Krunk then reeled his head back and headbutted the bovine. And from the looks of it, ended up damage both his and the bull's head. The beast staggered a bit as it tried to recover from the blow. However, the giant seemed to have already recovered and was ready to pin it down at a moments notice.
"Mother always said, the darker the night, the brighter the stars."
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