Thread: Godless (RaidenTheRipper & Chariot)

In truth, there are no winners in war. The masses never want to hear that though. Jaemie D'rukolth would have cried when she got the summons to return if she was able. Somehow though, there seemed to be little emotion left in her. Not rage, not joy, not even relief. Instead there was a cold hollow where her heart had been, and she stumbled trough her camp, the scroll still clutched in her hand unsure if she should indeed give the order for the company to move out. In more ways than one, this order was more of a death sentence to her men than anything. A third of her men were wounded or sick, and travel through the marshes would certainly breed infection once more, killing at least half of them and infecting at least another third. If they managed to survive the marshes there was always the lack of provisions that would get them. The war was over though. But what was achieved she had no idea. When she had first left the Temple of Scalla, the young Magus was proud of her achievement, if not a little ambitious. She and her Bondite were of good health, with a recuperation of only a fortnight, and set off through the mountains on nothing more than a couple of pack mules to get to the port city of Arathos. They had been barely out a month before summons came from His Majesty Cyron Damaskus XV seeking her services. With no specialty developed yet, she didn't know what to expect--typically a Magus would spend several years specializing in a school of magic before picked by anyone so high ranking to serve. She should have known that it wasn't because of her master's recommendation... The kingdom of Damaskus was a small, but prosperous land nestled between the eastern mountains and the warm Seliac Sea. Although in any other location it would make trade hard, Damaskus had something many other kingdoms did not have wealth. From the mountains there was gold, rubies, sapphires, silver. For many years it was a quiet, untouched land with the mountains providing natural protection on the eastern front, and a large navy holding the coast. But trade was not for every king, and the moment that Cyron Damaskus took the throne the expansion started happening. With seemingly endless funding the war campaigns were long and brutal. While Jaemie had only been a part of it for the last seven years, the war effort had been stewing for the last twelve. And thus she found herself in the service of the mad king, flying his banners--a golden phoenix clutching a fish and lance over a crimson field--and killing all those who opposed him. Kingdoms fell one by one to her company. All it took were some basic spells to block rivers, and disease fields. In a matter of weeks even the strongest kingdoms fell to sickness, hunger, and thirst. Damaskus had spread North and Northwest, with vassals in place in over a dozen small kingdoms and now comprised a third of the continent. However, if these summons to come back to the capitol were to be believed, the king's thirst for blood had been satiated. Shaking her head, Jaime pushed aside the canvas flap of her tent, letting herself inside. Her Bondite was not in it seemed, and she decided to call a page to bring her a bath. The tub was merely a large barrel that once contained wine. She kept the empty barrels to try to keep her men clean and sickness out of the camp for as long as possible. The plan worked with mild success, though many soldiers seemed afraid of water. The page took off her armor carefully, setting it aside to be cleaned and repaired. Though, in many ways Jaemie wished her bones could be set aside and repaired as well. War was painted all over her elegant form as scars, bruises, and callouses littered her body. In another life she could have been a great lady or courtesan. Her hair, although cut shot, was a blazing red and she had bright blue eyes to match. Her skin held the light well giving her a pale silvery glow. Her face was proportioned and slim, however her nose was slightly crooked from battle. All in all, the suitors who attempted to court her were many, though that was likely because she was the only woman on the field. With the help of a stool she was able to lower herself int the barrel, half squatting to get the water to her neck as she relaxed, waiting for her Bondite.