What A Bloody Garden Do We Grow

[Diomedea]

Attention!​

Before you vote, please note that I'm trying something a little different with this quest. Rather than simply choosing which option you like, please copy and paste all the options, and then number them in order of preference, like so:

[2] Option A​

[1] Option B
[3] Option C

If no option has more than 50% of the votes, I'll eliminate the most unpopular option, and redistribute those votes according to the #2 preference. I'll continue doing that until one option has more than 50% of the vote. Options that are runner-ups may influence the story and what your character does, so basically vote for what you feel like. Well, on to the story.

----
1

You stand easily before an arched door that is easily three times your size, your customary cocky grin clearly visible on the polished breastplates of the stone-faced guards flanking the door, halberds crossed to bar your path. You take a moment to admire you visage, and almost laugh when you see that your efforts to contain your hair for the day had already failed. You had stuffed your blazing mane of red hair into a ponytail, but already strands were starting to escape, and when taken with your fierce sideburns certainly made you an imposing figure. Your mentor had always said you looked more like a wild beast than a knight-in-training, but that was part of you charm. Charm completed of course with your strong chin, good looks, and intense blue eyes. When matched with your uniform, well, it was almost unfair.

It wasn't your charm that had earned you this though, and your grin turns fierce. One of the guards worriedly glances up at you before quickly returning to staring off into space. He was every right to be nervous, after all, despite their weapons you could easily crush the two men who stood before you with your bare hands, and if you were armed...well, you wouldn't even notice when they fell before you. Your hand itches without your familiar weapon in your hand, but you wouldn't need it anymore.

Not after today.

"Enter," a low voice rumbled out from nowhere, timed perfectly with the guards raising their weapons and the door creaking open. You banish your smile as you pass the threshold. Before you is a hallway, dark and long, it is illuminated solely by glimpses of candlelight caught from the eyes of their macabre holders. The skulls of all the fallen knights of the empire, both watching over those who joined their order, and heralding their ultimate fate.

Your ultimate fate.

A lesser man would shiver at the thought, but you boldly walk through the ever shifting darkness around you, and after a time enter into a brightly lit hall. The air is thick with the cloying smell of incense and burning braziers, and your eyes water slightly as smoke stings them. Before you stands the two dozen or so Knights of the Garden in a semi-circle. Most wore full sets of armour, their faces hidden, their figures almost otherworldly through the smoke. Only three faces are discernible, all three directly in front of you.

First was your Mentor, Hillar the Fall. Ten times he had been reported to have fallen in battle, and ten times he had returned with the head of his enemy. One of the oldest surviving knights, his face bore numerous scars, and you noted how his hair had been carefully styled in the current fashion in spite of the fact that he was probably the ugliest man you had ever seen. You were thankful for the lessons he had beaten into you, primarily how to endure.

Behind him stood Muriel the Strike. The current armsmaster and weapon mistress of the knights, she was known for her daring assaults and raids upon the enemies of the Empire. She seemingly attacked at random, without care for how outnumbered she was or how fortified her enemies were. She had deigned to give you some pointers, mainly how to attack weakness, wherever it was found.

The last was the smallest knight in the room, and only a few years older than you were. Knight-Commander Felix the Victory regarded you with a single, calculating eye, and you remembered the single, brutal lesson he had given you. Win at all costs. It was this mindset that had led to the Miracle at Harold's Hill, where a single Knight and his regiment had not only stopped King Harold from pursuing and destroying the Army of the West, but managed to corner and slay the King along with both of his heirs, at the small cost of the death of nine of every ten men who had fought with him. The survivors were heroes, and the Emperor himself had selected Felix to replace the recently deceased Knight-Commander Ernest the Error, and given him his name; the Victory.

By some unknown measure, the Knight-Commander had decided you had stood, peering into the haze long enough, and his clear tenor echoed in the chamber, "Kneel!"

You bent the knee without hesitation, and the three step forward, surrounding you, each reaching out to touch you.

"Do you swear to serve the blood of the Emperor, for as long as it flows?" Hillar asks, his hand on your head.

"Do you swear to fell the enemies of the Empire, wherever they arise?" Muriel demands, her hand on your arm.

"Do you swear to guard the secrets of the blood, in this life and the next?" Felix announces, his hand on your chest.

You take a moment to gather all your conviction, as the reasons you chose to walk this path flickered through your mind. To give away everything for a life of blood, fighting, death. To wield the mightiest mechanical armours ever made, among the very best knights in the world. No, there was never any doubt.

"I so swear," you vow. "So you all hear."

"So we all hear," the gathered knights murmur as the three step away from you.

"We are the Knights of the Garden, as a Garden is grown and nourished with water from heaven, so too is the Empire grown and nourished with our blood." Felix intones as two knights carry a large casket and place it before you. "It is here and now that you first shed that blood, so as to bring about new life for our Empire" he continues, drawing a ceremonial dagger and handing it to you.

You were not told about this part, and you look at Hillar for guidance, but your mentor steadfastly ignores you, his eyes on Felix.

"Now, release your life, and you will receive life in return. Movement for movement, joy for joy, pain for pain, and death for death." Felix continues as he opens the casket before you, revealing a heart the size of a large dog. "By the will of the Emperor, cut your palm and sprinkle your blood on the heart," He commands you.

Despite your confusion, you obey. After all, you had committed. A swift moment of pain and it is done.

The casket rumbles, and the ground rushes towards you, and then darkness swallows everything.

----
What type of weapon did you train with?
[] Sword
[] Polearm
[] Axe
[] Mace
[] Bow
[] Musket

Why did you decide to become a Knight of the Garden?
[] Personal Loyalty
[] Revenge!
[] For Power and Riches
[] Patriotism
[] A life of fighting is an end in itself.

 

[Diomedea]

Votes Locked

Spoiler: Implemented Tally

Current Tally:
Polearm: 4
Bow: 1
Sword:1

Love of Fighting: 3
Power/Riches: 2
Personal Loyalty: 1

"Knights of the Garden? Hah! Those are no knights. They are mere beasts bred for battle, rushing eagerly into the slaughter. No, we have shown the world what true knights of valor are."
-King Harold, shortly before his death on what is now called Harold's Hill.

It is not merely the size of their armours that make them so fearsome, though a 12 or 13 meter armour is no laughing matter. No, what truly makes a Knight of the Garden a force capable of turning the tide of battle is how they seem to make their armours move like a man. I can't imagine how complicated the control systems must be, or how they train such soldiers.
-Of Mechanised Armours Across the Seas, and Other Observations by Edouard Durand, master armourer of the Darlian Republic

 

[Diomedea]

AN: Sorry for the delay. I spent two days trying to draw your mecha before I remembered that I'm terrible at drawing, and that I'd just have to bite the bullet and try to make a word picture. Ugh.

2

Sweat trickles down your back as you stare off into the mid-morning sky. There are few clouds, so it isn't long before your eyes catch the smoke trail and reflexively follow it down to the city before you. The city itself is mostly intact, having fallen after only the bare minimum of defense. Not surprising of course, given that most of this petty little kingdom's army had marched off with its king. Unfortunately, the defenders had managed to withdraw most of their forces to the fortified palace on the near side of the city. The rest of the morning had been eaten up by troops securing the city, and preparation for the final assault. Amusingly, it was the homes of the wealthy that burned, since most of the fires had been caused by the defenders trying to disrupt the Imperial Troops preparing to assault the palace itself. It was looking to shape up into a hard and bloody fight.

Not that it had anything to do with you, you thought ruefully. You had been excited when you were assigned to Muriel after you had recovered from your initiation ceremony and finished familiarizing yourself with your new armour. It was frustrating that the senior knights were still tight lipped about many details concerning your new life, but it had been made clear that it was something best learned through combat. This suited you fine, so you went South with Muriel without complaint, expecting her to have some target in mind. Instead, you linked up with the Army of the South who were gearing up for their next campaign. The Five Kingdoms that stood between the Empire and the southern sea had formed a coalition to strike at the Empire to prevent them from being swallowed one by one over the next decade or so. You thought them wise for doing so, but foolish for making their intentions so plain.

You expected Muriel to march with the army, but she told you simply "Not yet." Instead she ordered you to continue to familiarize yourself with your armour. After the ambush and defeat of King Agam on the way to the coalition's gathering point, you expected Muriel to make her move then. Again, it was "not yet." So it was a surprise to you when several days later you all began to march south, not towards the fighting, but around it. It was only when you had received word of the Battle of Five armies that Muriel had explained herself. The battle had been victorious, with the Army of the South overtaking King Munir before he could meet with the other three kings and defeated. The next day the three Kings who had managed to meet had attacked, hoping to surprise a tired opponent. Instead they found a trap, and suffered massive casualties due to an intentional rockslide, which included King Roland of Eteran, the central Kingdom in the coalition. She had anticipated the Imperial Victory, and knew that the Kingdom of Eteran was the key to the entire region. The remnants of the defeated armies would reform and rearm, and seek to strike indirectly. By holding Eteran, it would prevent what forces remained in the region from concentrating, while also blocking communication.

Additionally, it had been King Roland who had gotten the other prideful Kings to set aside their differences and work together, partially due to the legends surrounding his Kingdom. It was one of the oldest kingdoms in the world, already old when the Empire was founded four hundred years ago. Their legends said that as long as someone of their royal family ruled over Eteran, the world would stand, but if their house fell, so too would the world. By capturing their capital city, which was quaintly also named Eteran, it would be symbolic of the end of the world, and destroy any remaining will to resist in the five kingdoms. She explained that she had waited until it was clear that the armies would meet, so she could position herself to arrive before news of the battle did, and thus take the city unaware.

Yet you were stuck watching things from afar. She had assigned you to watch the northern wall of the city, where the Palace was situated. She had split her own troops to assault from both the East and the West, while Muriel had personally waded out into the harbor and attacked from the south. You had volunteered to attack the palace after she had begun her own assault, but her orders had been clear: Watch and crush any attempt to flee. So you had watched for several hours from inside your armour, before exciting to continue your watch from atop your armour.

It was more comfortable than operating your armour, but it was still hot. If it wasn't for the shade provided by the red crest from your armour's helmet, it would be unbearable. When you first caught sight of your completed armour, you thought it intimidating and beautiful. It stood over 13 meters high and was armoured with blackened steel plates edged with gold. It had a distinctive helmet, with four red glass eyes, slightly recessed compared to the golden plating that highlighted them, forming an X on the front of your otherwise black helmet, and it was topped with a brilliant red crest. The only thing you disliked was the golden plated ridge which arced from mid-pauldron to mid-pauldron across the back of the armour. It was the attachment for the very long red cape that you were informed was non-optional. The attachment ridge hid how the pilot entered the armour from the back of the neck, therefore the ridge and thus the cape was required to keep what was considered an important secret, that the Knights of the Garden piloted from the head of their armours rather than the traditional chest.

So the long cape that was just begging to be grabbed was here to stay. You'd just have to be sharp enough that anyone who tried would die for the attempt. Still, you wished for some action, and glancing around at your personal troop positioned around your amour, they looked just as bored as you were. Your own troops. It was a strange, but pleasant feeling to have men and women under your command, but-

Your thoughts are interrupted when you spot movement in the forest beneath the city walls. Through the trees you spot flashes of colour and light bouncing off steel. Someone is trying to sneak out of the city! You don't waste a moment, and you jump, landing heavily a moment later by the opening to the pilot compartment. You squeeze your large frame through and find yourself on the inside of the helmet. Despite the sheer size of the armour, there was still barely room here for you to stand. A soft click behind you as the opening closes hurries you along as you grab a mask with a long hose running to the mouth, and pull it over your face. You can no longer see, as it blocks your vision, but you do not hesitate as you begin tightening the straps to ensure a snug fit. A warm liquid splashes your feet as it begins pouring into the chamber, but it no longer surprises you. You force yourself to wait as you feel the chamber filling, the warm, sticky wetness climbing its way up your body. When it reaches your neck, you kneel, assuming the position your armour had taken on the hilltop. After a few heartbeats, your vision clears.

You lift your heard, and begin scanning the forest with eyes that are not yours. The red glass tints everything, and it still makes you nauseous to see with four eyes, but you had never been able to see so far so easily. What before was a hint of movement, a flash of light, and a glimpse of colour is now clear before you. Dozens of armours in column, dressed in Eteran's Royal colours were attempting to flee Northwest of the city using the tall evergreens as cover. It seemed that the Royal Bodyguard was attempting to escape with the royal children, which meant both combat and a reward if you were successful!

You stand slowly, and you feel the armour stand with you, the liquid around you pressing down to prevent you from moving faster than your armour does. This, you feel, is the real secret of the blood. No fancy control mechanisms, no need to watch balance indicators and carefully choose your next step. No, all you needed to do was move your own body. If your armour was unbalanced, then the blood pushed on you and you felt unbalanced. If you righted yourself, then your armour righted itself. You didn't have to control anything, you simply had to move.

Now standing, you catch sight of more movement. You spy a smaller party, of only half a dozen armours heading to the North East, and moving much more stealthily along a gully. You break into a grin, and with a hand that isn't your, grab a cylinder off of your armour's left vambrace. You whip it down, and it explosively extends into a spear, with two dagger-like protrusions springing out to form a crossguard. It was simple as pole-arms go, a spearpoint to stab and slash, and the crossguard was sharp and strong enough to punch through even the most heavily armoured sections on an enemy. You also had a standard sword, and a nasty surprise for anyone you punched with your right hand, but your bow was still being worked on. Your personal regiment was still understrength as well, with only two green cohorts and another cohort of veterans taken from Hillar's regiment. Still, you know glory and riches await you today, so you waste no time dithering and give the order to...

Options:

[] Have all troops attack the royal guard
[] Have all troops attack the smaller party
[] Split your forces

Meanwhile...

[] You will attack the royal guard
[] You will attack the smaller party
[] You'll stand back and observe

Note: Better discussion and speculation will mean the protagonist will have a better grasp of the situation.

 

[Diomedea]

@Diomedon a few questions, if you don't mind:

1. Are our subordinates in 'armour' too?
2. If so, is it the same sort of armour as us, or the inferior, traditional sort?
3. How big is a cohort? We have two green cohorts and one veteran one, but that doesn't really tell me shite about the actual numbers or strength of our available forces.
4. How do our subordinates rank up in terms of combat efficacy when compared to the 'armours' we face, by our estimation?
5. How many enemy armours do we estimate that we could take in a straight-up fight? There is a clear indication that we are better, but not by how much.

Getting some answers to those would make this decision a lot easier.

Click to shrink...

Excellent questions! Apparently my 1.7k info dump was insufficient.

1. Yes.

2. Unless they are a named Knight of the Garden or otherwise specified, all other armour is of the inferior type. Additionally, Imperial armours tend to be slightly inferior to foreign designs on a type for type basis, due to differences in how they are made. Imperial Armour is more standardized, with largely interchangeable parts, greatly simplifying production and logistics. Foreign armours are still made on the artisan model, and tend to be customized to the pilot and their unique fighting style.

3. I'll give you more info than you requested! A knight regiment consists of four cohorts, but yours is currently short one. A cohort consists of six 9 meter armours, and a dozen 6 meter armours, as well as 60 men on foot, as well as two armours that are designed for transport. Your men on foot are all currently watching the baggage train (yours, Muriels, and additional transport armours to allow Muriel operational mobility), since Muriel needs hers to help secure the city. So you have 18 of the 9 meter armours and 36 of the 6 meter armours immediately available.

4. Green Imperial Troops have gone through considerable training, but have not seen combat. While technically skilled, they tend to make mistakes in battle, but they usually have a small cadre of more experienced soldiers to keep them alive long enough for most of them to learn from the experience. Your veteran troops are drawn from your mentor, Hillar's, forces. Unfortunately, as indicated by his tendency to end up in situations where he's been reported dead, his regiment has significantly higher turnover than most any other unit in the Empire, reducing their battle experience. You yourself served a campaign under Hillar two years ago (in a 9m type), and were given the exact same cohort you served in. There are only three surviving soldiers from that period (One in a 9m and two 6m. The 9m one will be named soon and serves as your second-in-command).

As a side note, your cohort of veterans is in very high spirits since being assigned to you.

You are not immediately familiar with Eteran, but usually the Royal Guard is a mix of the best of the best of normal soldiers, and wealthy nobles who are willing to pay for the honour. While the nobles tend to be less skilled than veteran troops, their armours tend to be nicer, so it somewhat evens out. Your best guess is that all your troops together could defeat the royal contingent, and that your veterans backed by another cohort would be about even, unless there is something you don't know.

5. A Knight of the Garden can turn the tide of battles. They are generally used to crush the enemy leadership, who usually are in the largest armours around. You are very confident that one on one you could defeat just about anyone. The danger comes from the fact that you are vulnerable to being pinned and then attacked from the sides or rear, which is why they are given a regiment to support them. However, your armour has better mobility and a wider range of vision than anything else you've ever see, and when taken with the additional reach your spear gives you, makes you fairly certain that you could defeat your own veteran cohort with only superficial damage, but your chances would be iffy if you had to fight all three cohorts at once.

If anyone else has questions, feel free to ask them. If your character knows, I'll happily answer (and if he doesn't, I'll gleefully say "You don't know! ).

 

[Diomedea]

...hmmm...
@Diomedon are there hero units capable of taking on the 'lesser' armors? Without armors themselves, I mean.

Click to shrink...

People on foot are potential threats for armours, but the threat is usually from a swarm of them using specialized weapons. A single hero doing a colossal climb, reaching the pilot, and killing them with a "traditional" weapon is theoretically possible, but absurdly difficult as the vulnerable visor is located in the upper chest. There are few handholds, and those do exist might be between moving parts on the armour, crushing your hand as soon as it moves. Your character considers himself a superb combatant, and the idea of attacking an armour on foot with out some sort of special weapon sounds like overly complicated suicide to him.

That isn't to say that foot soldiers are useless. Imperial foot soldiers primary purpose is to prevent enemy foot from distracting armour from its "proper" role of crushing the enemy's armour, but even they have a few incendiary grenades that can be launched or thrown at enemy armour. If a grenade lands near the pilot compartment, the heat can kill the pilot, and the smoke can block vision and impede breathing. Another tactic commonly used by the Empire's enemies is to fix a large shell full of gunpowder on the end of a long hollow pole. The shell is covered in a sticky substance, and it is jammed near the pilot compartment or any joints within reach. A cord at the end of the pole is pulled, separating the shell from the pole, and igniting the fuse. These can be prone to failure, with the fuse failing to light, or the shell falling off before exploding, but an unsupported armour will still be quickly disabled if surrounded by enemy infantry, since the pilot can only focus on one foot soldier at a time.

Foot soldiers also have used crew serviced weapons to kill armours, usually in a defensive position in a fortification. Things that spray fire are popular.

In this specific case, it is highly unlikely that you'll encounter any enemy foot soldiers for the simple fact that it would greatly slow down the enemy's flight. An armour is much faster over a long distance than a person, and doesn't tire like a horse.

 

[Diomedea]

Votes Locked

Spoiler: Implemented Tally

Send Troops to Attack the Royal Guard: 4
Split your Forces: 1

Personally Attack the Royal Guard: 3
Personally Attack the Smaller Party: 3 [TIEBREAKER APPLIED]

"What is more natural than a spear? People have been using spears since the world was made. Even a child knows how to fashion a pointed stick to hunt rabbits with. Our blood is rich in the knowledge of a thousand generations of spear users. That is why I say the spear is the King of weapons."
-Master Wilhelm, in the epic "The Founding"

"Here, try this. Stick them with the pointy end before they stick you."
-Hillar the Fall

 

[Diomedea]

3

You open your mouth wide, hitting a lever inside your mask with your chin, opening a valve in your mask. You can only imagine the difficulties the earliest users of armours faced, once they started to get bigger than a few meters. However, with this, you can be heard by anyone in front of you for nearly a mile. You turn to your right, where Linus, your Sergeant-at-Arms stood. You note with pleasure that your men had already prepared to move upon noting you reentering your armour.

"Linus!" you shout, as you swing your spear to point at the royal guard. "Take the troops and crush those cowards who are fleeing like rats. Capture anyone important looking, if you can. If not, do what needs done; Let none escape!"

"Sir!" Linus's voice answers quickly and without question, and you hit the lever again closing the valve. Linus is an old solider, and knows better than to ask questions on the battlefield where anyone and everyone can hear. Orders are repeated up and down the line, and in moments your troops begin advancing into the forest towards the royal guard.

Satisfied that Linus would handle it, you turn to focus on the smaller, stealthier party. You had decided to handle them personally, both because the Royal Guard was likely a distraction, but also because there was no glory to be found in fighting merely good opponents. No, you wanted to fight the strongest warrior you could find, and that warrior would be with the smaller party, where individual skill counted the most.

You catch sight of them again, moving quicker than before, no doubt having heard the shouting and movement caused by your orders. You take a moment to anticipate where you could intercept them, and then you are off, striding as quick as you can through this thick forest. You hope to get ahead of them, so that they fight ferociously to continue their escape, not knowing how long until more troops would fall on them.

The thrill of anticipation fills your being, and it seems both like a few moments and forever before you reach the top of the gully. You have only a moment to glance over the enemy, most of whom have turned towards you, forewarned by the tremors sent out by your rapid advance, and then you leap.

The enemy's rear-guard, a six-meter armour wielding what looked like a cannon, was facing away from you. If anyone had been pursuing from the direction of the city, he would be perfectly placed to take out the first armour that approached, which would force any other pursuers to be more cautious. Fortunately for you, this meant he was facing the wrong way, and barely had started to turn towards you when you landed spear first into his side. The spear pierced his armour effortlessly all the way to the crossguard, and you felt your armour shudder as it absorbed the shock of the landing.

You didn't have a moment to waste, the other five armours were at your back, so with a mighty heave you lifted your spear up and over, flinging the armour towards the onrushing foe. It clipped the nearest one, forcing him to stop and check his balance, before breaking apart as it hit the ground.

"Go!" you hear, and to their credit the four furthest armour didn't hesitate. It seems they were willing to delay you with their lives. Now you are certain they are escorting the royal children. Good. It means they will fight even harder.

You focus your will, and then you are upon the enemy, sending strike after strike at him, giving him no chance to retaliate. He is good, blocking all of your strikes, but he puts too much momentum into each parry to try and match your speed. You thrust at his leg, and his resulting block throws him off balance. Before he can recover, you punch your spear-point through his visor, and have already moved past him as his armour finishes falling to the ground.

At the sound, two nine meter armours turn and stop to face you, while the final two continue on. Good! One opponent was hardly a proper challenge to you now, after all! The near armour has a large, heavy two-handed sword, while the far one wields a mace. Both weapons are designed to defeat heavy armour. Your experienced eye can tell they are not used to working together, or they would have switched position, to ensure they would both reach effective range at the same time. Still, you must be careful not to get tied down fighting one, while the other closes.

You...
[] Attack Aggressively
[] Attack Cautiously
[] Invite attack, and counter-attack

And you focus...
[] On the closer armour, with the sword.
[] On the more distant armour, with the mace.
[] Split your attention evenly

 

[Diomedea]

Oh, right. I meant to lock this...

Votes Locked

Spoiler: Implemented Tally

Attack Aggressively: 6
Closer Armour: 2
More Distant Armour: 4

"A sword is forged for a singular purpose; to kill your enemy. It isn't a tool grabbed in desperation, nor something made to hunt beasts. In this way, it is the perfect form for war, with nothing to dilute its essence. A spear may be "natural" and easy to learn, but a sword is the best weapon for a warrior."
-Prince Henry, in the epic "The Founding"

The Empire believes itself the natural ruler of the world. The light that beats back the darkness of barbarity. They think that they will unite the world under the benevolent blessing of their Emperors and Empresses. The blood of the gods. They have come closer than any state before, with only the Hegemony to their east retaining the strength and will to successfully stand against them. Most seem to think they will never break through the mountains into our lands, but when all the lands to the South, North, and West have fallen, can we withstand the full might of their armies? I fear that I will know the answer in my lifetime.
-Nia, second disciple of the Philosopher Kibwe

 

[Diomedea]

AN: Sorry for the delay. RL got hectic for a bit there, so I didn't have the energy to write anything up. It looks like it's calming down again, but it should be clear by now that life is just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before the next whammy.

4

You don't even hesitate as you rush forward, spear swinging towards the closer armour as you rapidly close. Almost as if they were expecting it, the closer armour moves to block your spearhead, while the mace wielder rushes to meet with you. With a grin, you twist your spear away from your feint, and thrust it directly at the far armour. It was a testament to his skill that he managed to parry it at all, but your spearpoint pierces his armour's leg, sending sheets of armour and metal flying, before your cross-guard slams into it, sending him sprawling.

You had always hated it during training when Hillar would constantly taunt you by predicting your next move. It had been galling, but it had taught you the value of being unpredictable in a fight, and how throwing something unexpected could throw off anyone's game.

The still standing armour swung his sword, and you only manage to partially block the blow with the butt of your spear. It hammers into your right pauldron, and you feel a slight vibration from the hit. Fortunately, your feint had landed you too close for him to use his blade with full effectiveness, so it looked like he didn't breech your armour. While you had enjoyed surprising them, you remember the other lesson Hillar had taught you about predictability. It favored the stronger warrior. You can't help but shake the feeling that you could have avoided that hit, but it wasn't anything serious. When it came down to your enjoyment or your pride, you'd go with enjoyment.

You push the armour away from you with a shove from your spearhaft, causing him to stumble back into the wall of the gully. You turn your attention back to the mace wielder, to see to your surprise that he has managed to stand. Yes! You felt lucky that you had opponents who could take a few hits. You swing you spear overhead, bringing it down on him like a hammer. For a brief moment, it appears that he managed to parry it successfully before his damaged leg gives way, destroying his posture. Your spearhead smashes into his armour's head, and the crossguard punches into the chest of the machine, almost certainly killing the pilot.

You hear a roar of rage from the other enemy. You give your spear a heave, and quickly wrench it free in time to see him charging towards you, already swinging. He was spirited, but his anger was ruining his form. You counter-attack, taking advantage of the hole in his form to land before he completes his swing. Your spearhead slashes through his amour's forearm, sending his hand and sword flying to land behind you. You thrust immediately, not giving him the chance to try something clever in desperation, and his armour's chest crumples.

The thrill of victory floods you, just like it had after the fight against two older boys who had tried to take your supper. It was after that fight that Hillar had taken you in, and told you because it was you understood the truth of the world. Life was a battle, and ultimately, defeat meant death. He had laughed when you told him he was wrong, that victory was life. He demanded you prove it by landing a blow on him before the sun set, and you had, and you had felt it then too. And every time after.

You pull your spear free, and resume your chase. It is only after a minute or two that the gully you are in begins to narrow and deepen, and your footing worsens as the ground beneath you turns to mud. You go around a bend, and before you stands a single enemy armour. You take note that it stands taller than the last two, probably around 12 or 13 meters, and is unusually wielding an axe and a shield. The last armour is nowhere in sight, either waiting to ambush you from above, or more likely, contained the royal family member and continued on. If that was true and his final bodyguard had decided to wait for you here...then their final destination, some sort of fort or shelter, must be close by. No bodyguard would leave their charge without protection for a long period of time.

Deciding you have no time to waste, you try to rush him, spear thrusting towards him. He barely shifts his shield, efficiently blocking it, as well as your follow up strike, before striking out with his axe. You barely keep him from knocking your spear down into the soft mud below, where it would take you a moment to retrieve it. You take two steps back, and he stands impassively, having already returned to a guard position.

Your curiosity piqued, you take a closer look at your opponent. His armour, like the other members of the royal guard, is covered in white enameled armour, accented in blue and gold. Unlike the other members of the guard, he had a bright blue plume on his helmet, and a white, flowing cloak that was almost as long as your own. His shield, an expensive choice for an armour, is painted in a checkered pattern, blue on white, with the golden boss shaped into the likeness of a tiger on the prowl. He wields a bearded axe, which should be unwieldy, but he moved it gracefully when he counterattacked.

This opponent was surely strong. You felt you had made the right choice in pursing this group yourself. This...this was the type of battle you were looking for!

You trigger your chin lever and shout, "I am Isaac, Knight of the Garden! Who stands against me?!"

Silence follows for a long moment, and you begin to think he had declined to respond, when a deep voice booms out in response, "The White Tiger of Eteran bars your way. Know the name of your killer, for it is Pierre!"

Despite his boast, he makes no move towards you, content to leave the initiative to you.

[] You don't have time to draw this out. Present an opening, take the hit, and use the opportunity to kill him.
[] You don't have time for this. Fall back, climb out of the gully and circle around.
[] If he wants you to come to him...then you want to force him to come to you. Taunt him into attacking you instead!
[] This is a dangerous opponent, but your machine is much easier to use. Keep aggressively attacking him until he tires.
[] This is a dangerous opponent. You should cautiously probe his defenses for weaknesses.

 

[Diomedea]

Votes Locked

Taunting is unanimous as everyone's first pick. I'm a little surprised it was so popular. If y'all want to give suggestions for taunts, that's fine, or if not, I have some in mind already.

"A spear is natural? A sword has purpose? Irrelevant. Humans have used a thousand things to spill the blood of their fellows, and they will use a thousand more. It matters not how natural a spear is to use if your bones are broken, nor how much purpose your sword holds if your blood has watered the earth and you do not even have the strength to stand. No, armour is far more important than any weapon. Here, let me show you."
-The Gardner, in the epic "The Founding"


I know most of my fellows have no interest in the barbarian nations to the West, and for good reason. Most of their kingdoms rise and fall in only a few generations, and it is a place dominated by brutality and war. Little of value is found there, and their peoples make only the lowest of slaves. I do think it is useful, however, to take a closer look at them from time to time to remind ourselves not to take the prosperity of civilization for granted.

One of my disciples recently returned from a small kingdom not too far from our border, and it truly is a perfect example. It amusingly calls itself "The Empire," as if they were the first, and despite being only a little bit larger than your average kingdom. They call themselves that because they united three small petty kingdoms, but the barbarians lack of perspective isn't what I wish to write of. No, what is truly appalling is their obsession with blood.

They believe it has some sort of mystical power, and they believe their leader has the blood of a god in her veins. My disciple has said that nearly every ceremony their priest perform involve bloodshed of some sort. Their marriage ceremony contains few promises or vows, but instead the disgusting practice of mixing their blood. I cannot fathom how they think such superstitions could substitute for a well-written marriage contract!

What's more, they've taken their obsession with blood in an entirely absurd direction. They believe that since a woman bleeds, that it is from her that a child gets its own blood, and that it fills the empty vessel grown from the man's seed. Due to this and their idolization of blood, it is believed that only a woman can continue a family, thus the only true born heirs are from the mother, and they pretend the father's line ends with him!

I am truly glad we are spared from such madness. Can you imagine if we believed as they did? I cannot understand how they can be so completely backwards. A woman is a vessel to allow her husband's seed to grow into a child. How can they think the child's life is of her? I hope this "Empire" is crushed by it's neighbors soon, if simply for the good of it's poor people. A few generations of this, and how will they ever figure out who a person's true family was?
-from Writings on Other Lands, by the great philosopher Adisa from four hundred years ago.