Stretch, Aquila, IP, Ehto
The armored man is silent for a very long time. It almost seems like Aquila might have missed the question, or outright ignored Stretch. Of course, he had heard him and wasn't ignoring him, the big man just processing the question in his head. It became very clear that he was no long looking at Ehto but straight though her. In his head he replays several moments that lead to where he is right now. The first is five years prior. He remembers his family, gathered around the fire in their house. There'd been a raid days ago, maybe even weeks. Everyone bar his little sister had known the harvest was bad that year, they would have barely had enough to make it through winter after tribute was demanded if it wasn't for.... He didn't even know who did it. He could understand his own mother tongue through the clashing of swords and shields, the Japanese of the chosen, and the harsh barks of the Warborn. Whoever it was must have been desperate striking this far into the heartlands of the region though, so he almost didn't blame them.... Until he heard the growl of his sister's stomach, and saw the tears in his mother's eyes. With a sigh, he stood, knowing what he had to do. If they had no food, he'd simply have to ask around for donations. Their neighbors were generous people after all, and maybe they were luckier!
The next memory was some months later. He'd been caught stealing bread, it would have been enough to get them through the week, the merchants would have been through town and his careful scavenging through the battlefields of the borderlands would have gotten them easily enough food till they could get a new crop going. Well, he didn't have to worry about them now he figured. Now though, he was in the penal legions, deemed to be fit enough to carry a sword and shield and go into the meatgrinder they called a war. A war he was fighting right now, not his first battle but his worst one yet by far. His squad had been cut down, reinforcements were far away and it was only him left on the frontline. Mud squished beneath his shoes and blood soiled his clothes as he took the opportunity to rest... Until he heard a lone set of footsteps approaching. He snapped into his battle stance, turning to face the sound he dreaded... And there she was, the wide swept blade of a Nobushi drawing his eye first, then the woman herself, small compared to him but he knew better. They stared at each other for several tense moments before quick as lightning her naginta flashed out, his experience in prior battles being the only thing keeping him from getting skewered then and there. His shield directed the blow away from his torso, giving him an opportunity to slash back at her, though she easily stepped back. Both combatants circled each other for long, long moments, Aquila trying to find a time to break off.... until with clatter of his equipment, Aquila stumbled over a body and his fall secured as the mud made him lose all traction. He was quick to to raise his shield but his panicked defense didn't stop the Nobushi's blade from marring him. Aquila couldn't himself remember what happened beyond a burst of pain, the feeling of a blade slicing along his face... And despite knowing his eyes were both opens it was as if he couldn't see in one. He screamed. A long, pained, gut wrenching thing from the still young soldier. After that, he wasn't sure what happened. He'd been hauled back at some point, and somehow he'd been tended to despite having no memory of someone doing so. In light of his survival though, a story that was corroborated by troops that'd been in the area, he received a promotion.
Finally, maybe a year after the last memory. His recovery was swift by all accounts, his superiors feeling vindicated in their choice to promote him. His training was similarly quick, with his agility in blocking in particular being noted. It was his first battle since he'd been made a Conqueror, the chains at his wrist clinking quietly as he approached the scared looking Chosen. He didn't blame them, after the rigorous training he'd gone through simple conscripts... they ceased being a challenge to him. It made him... angry. He didn't want to do this, he never was interested in fighting, he was going to be a farmer, settle down with a nice woman, raise a family.... The least these soldiers could do was finally end his suffering! With a cry he brings his flail down on the head of the trembling woman, a decisive crunch signaling her end. He howled, the legion troops around him flinching and backing away, as he raged at his own actions... and the satisfaction rising in him. As he leaves his memories behind he jolts, the first moment he'd made since the question was posed. And then finally, he sighed, slumping in a manner that made him seem much smaller than he usually did. With a half broken voice he responds quietly. "... I don't know...."
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Topic: [IC] Trespassers of the Multiverse: The Meeting Hall (Crossover Thread) (Read 7234 times)