Chapter 1.3
King Tharassian
Governor-Militant
- Location
- Victory Bay, Kronus
Update finished! Detail on new discussions below.
If there was one thing you had to say was the most convenient about your condition with regards to the three Saints who apparently had been stationed inside your head by a God you had never seen or heard from personally (not that you felt yourself worthy of such attention, humble servant that you were), it was the fact that your conversations with them could, if so desired, take up the timespan of mere moments in real time.
A fact that you are certain is being taken for granted at this moment.
You are in a mindscape with the three Saints, each one looking like a figure out of a painting or tapestry. There's complete silence as they try to think of a convincing backstory for you, and as you pick apart details on the Captain while he is, by your perception, perfectly still.
The armor was indeed green in color, though it had a washed-out hue most likely caused by exposure to the elements. Some simple gilding, and a helmet with a pair of stylized wings were the only real decoration. The tabard had a flame, but the shield had an anchor. Curious.
"Maybe we say that we're from Normandy?" Margaret chirped, trying to be heard above Michael's planning, which he always did out loud.
"Suboptimal," the archangel replied. "We don't even know if this is Europe, and those corpse-creatures only drive home to me that this is uncharted territory." He continued his - admittedly mental, as he had no physical body with which to do anything - pacing.
"A farmgirl." Catherine sat at a spinning wheel as she spoke. "She should try not to lie. 'Tis better to tell a partial truth than to lie outright."
"And if they ask more questions?" You turn to them, looking away from the real world. "What then? They could be English, by their accents, and I am in no mood to be burned again for something that was necessary." Michael clnched his fists, and Margaret blanched and visibly recoiled, both struck harder by the fact that they had ultimately failed than either would have liked. Catherine, however, simply raised an eyebrow and kept spinning.
"Then hopefully you will have answers." She gave a wan smile. "'Tis not the best solution, but it is the most practical right now." Much as you were apprehensive, she was right. But what if they did ask, and you were not ready to give them an answer?
Ultimately, that was a chance you would have to take. You stepped back through your own eyes, and into the present.
"Jeanne d'Arc. My name is Jeanne d'Arc." A number of the soldiers were whispering among themselves as you spoke. You could hear a few words - "Tirisfal" and "Northern" foremost among them, but they were not as important as gauging the Captain's own reaction.
He seemed unimpressed. His eyes didn't even narrow when you spoke, and he seemed to have a lazy confidence that he had drawn about himself in the scant minutes since the battle. A very good cover, but you'd seen others do the same to hide suspicion or apprehension. He seemed to fit the former.
"A pleasure, Miss d'Arc." He nodded as he spoke, but he had a slight edge to his voice that betrayed a certain wariness. "But I'll ask again: why and how are you here, of all places?"
Another argument ensued.
"I knew honesty was the best policy!" Margaret was clapping excitedly, and seemed distinctly pleased with herself.
"I don't think that's the best response to this situation, Margaret." Was Catherine agitated? That was a rare occurence. "It might be cheering for Jeanne getting caught again."
Margaret deflated immediately, looking somewhat like a deer that had just seen a torch.
"No, she's partially right. We just need to do the same thing as before." Michael had a clever smile as he explained his idea.
Quite frankly, it was simple. Too simple.
But it was what you got on short notice.
After what felt an eternity, you had an answer for more than you did only a moment earlier.
"My transport crashed some ways down the shore. Since the crash was rather sudden, and I don't know where this is when comparing it to anywhere I know, I just followed the best path I could." That seemed to put some others at greater ease. They seemed familiar with the concept of being stranded. At least, you hoped that was what they were agreeing on. The Captain seemed more at ease as well.
"Well, I suppose if that's all you can say, that's all you can say." He turned to one of the soldiers. "Call a sea priest and tend to the wounded. Give the dead a proper burial. I won't leave them where they can't see the ocean." As the force dispersed, he walked over, seemingly to speak with you less publicly. " I realize that i never introduced myself properly. Carvell Thornby, Captain of the"- his eyes indicated a slight grimace as he spoke- "First Tirasian Host of the Scarlet Crusade."
You could have heard a pin drop in the mental landscape where the Saints listened.
"A Crusade?" You hadn't heard another crusade was declared. The last you remembered was aimed at the Hussites, and you somehow doubted that these men and women were fighting traitors to the Catholic Church. The Captain raised an eyebrow.
"Lived under a rock for a while, eh?" At your indignant expression, he gave a short laugh. 'I meant no offense. Living under a rock is safer than living in Tirisfal proper nowadays. Especially with the Forsaken running amok. Though," he nodded to the sword in your hand, "I must wonder then how you know to use a sword. And how you came across one like that specifically. But most of all," his voice lowered and he crossed his arms, "I'm forced to wonder whether you're telling the truth. And if not, whether you did such with intentions to harm my soldiers or our cause." His eyes were narrowed, and the smile that played around them was more than likely a pretense to keep up the charade of a civil conversation. "So I'll have to ask you: what are you doing here, and why did you approach us?"
"I already told you," you hissed back. "I'm lost and don't know where to go. I don't have any ill will towards you or your people." You bit back a sigh. "To be honest, I need some form of assistance. And if you truly must know how I learned to use a weapon, I…"
[] "Learned from my father" An unlikely story where you come from, but there are women in armor among the captain's ranks. Perhaps he'll even believe it.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Joined my town's militia." More likely for you, perhaps, but it might not explain how you know to use a sword specifically; swords are expensive, and spears are far more common among peasant levies, exceeded only by the hand-axe.
-[] Write-in (Optional)
[] "Fought for the local lord." A good explanation for your poise and discipline, but might raise questions about your birthplace. Then again, they seem to have ideas of where they think you're from already, and may simply fill in the blanks.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Had to. There was not much choice but to fight." A risky option. They may wonder what exactly you were fighting for, or why you had to. But they might assume you had a run of bad luck, are an orphan, or made your way as a street rat.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Was called to it." The most truthful option, but also risky. Depending on what these men and women worship, or who they serve, you may offend a few delicate sensibilities. But they are crusaders, are they not? Perhaps you will find kin in them.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] Write-in
"My transport crashed some ways down the shore. Since the crash was rather sudden, and I don't know where this is when comparing it to anywhere I know, I just followed the best path I could." That seemed to put some others at greater ease. They seemed familiar with the concept of being stranded. At least, you hoped that was what they were agreeing on. The Captain seemed more at ease as well.
"Well, I suppose if that's all you can say, that's all you can say." He turned to one of the soldiers. "Call a sea priest and tend to the wounded. Give the dead a proper burial. I won't leave them where they can't see the ocean." As the force dispersed, he walked over, seemingly to speak with you less publicly. " I realize that i never introduced myself properly. Carvell Thornby, Captain of the"- his eyes indicated a slight grimace as he spoke- "First Tirasian Host of the Scarlet Crusade."
You could have heard a pin drop in the mental landscape where the Saints listened.
"A Crusade?" You hadn't heard another crusade was declared. The last you remembered was aimed at the Hussites, and you somehow doubted that these men and women were fighting traitors to the Catholic Church. The Captain raised an eyebrow.
"Lived under a rock for a while, eh?" At your indignant expression, he gave a short laugh. 'I meant no offense. Living under a rock is safer than living in Tirisfal proper nowadays. Especially with the Forsaken running amok. Though," he nodded to the sword in your hand, "I must wonder then how you know to use a sword. And how you came across one like that specifically. But most of all," his voice lowered and he crossed his arms, "I'm forced to wonder whether you're telling the truth. And if not, whether you did such with intentions to harm my soldiers or our cause." His eyes were narrowed, and the smile that played around them was more than likely a pretense to keep up the charade of a civil conversation. "So I'll have to ask you: what are you doing here, and why did you approach us?"
"I already told you," you hissed back. "I'm lost and don't know where to go. I don't have any ill will towards you or your people." You bit back a sigh. "To be honest, I need some form of assistance. And if you truly must know how I learned to use a weapon, I…"
[] "Learned from my father" An unlikely story where you come from, but there are women in armor among the captain's ranks. Perhaps he'll even believe it.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Joined my town's militia." More likely for you, perhaps, but it might not explain how you know to use a sword specifically; swords are expensive, and spears are far more common among peasant levies, exceeded only by the hand-axe.
-[] Write-in (Optional)
[] "Fought for the local lord." A good explanation for your poise and discipline, but might raise questions about your birthplace. Then again, they seem to have ideas of where they think you're from already, and may simply fill in the blanks.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Had to. There was not much choice but to fight." A risky option. They may wonder what exactly you were fighting for, or why you had to. But they might assume you had a run of bad luck, are an orphan, or made your way as a street rat.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] "Was called to it." The most truthful option, but also risky. Depending on what these men and women worship, or who they serve, you may offend a few delicate sensibilities. But they are crusaders, are they not? Perhaps you will find kin in them.
-[] Write-in (optional)
[] Write-in
So far, I've been writing Jeanne based on an interpretation of her personality that I created for this version. However, I decided that you all should have more of a say in how she develops.
Moving on, there is another vote to include: images. There have been three posted so far, and some sentiment indicated a vote was preferred. So here you go:
[] 1
[] 2
[] 3
[] New Submission (include pic)
Voting now commences!
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