- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
- TNP Nation
- Prydania
- Discord
- lordgigaice
OOC: This will be a new ongoing thread set primarily in Prydania, Saintonge, and Korova in the early 16th Century! For more info check out the OOC thread here!
IC:
13 June 1511
1:28 pm
On a Tuesday
Stormurholmr, Prydania
“What's really funny,” Vladimir chuckled, “is that this is all I ever wanted. You and me…” his voice drew low, like a hiss. Baldr clenched his jaw. It was unnerving.
“You, the last Loðbrók. And I, the rightful Maksutov King.”
“I’m not the last Loðbrók,” Baldr muttered.
“Oh I’ll change that,” Vladimir said with a mocking smirk. An image of his wife Alexandra, his brother, and cousins flashed through Baldr’s mind. He growled and charged Vladimir.
“If!” Baldr yelled, bringing Jægerblað down against Vladimir’s blade, “YOU!” he brought it down again. Vladimir, who had cackled at glee at the sight of the charging Prydanian King, found himself on the back foot from Baldr’s sheer anger.
“HURT! THEM!” Baldr brought his blade down hard again, “I’ll make you pay…” he seethed as he leaned into Vladimir as their blades crossed.
Vladimir though, had recovered from the shock of Baldr’s onslaught.
“THAT’S THE SPIRIT! THAT’S WHAT I WANTED!” he grinned manically.
“HIT ME!” he yelled as he pushed off from Baldr. Baldr swung his sword again, clashing with Vladimir’s as the high noon sun shone down on them from Stormurkastala and the battle below.
“I haven't harmed your bitch wife or your family, no!” Vladimir growled.
“I'll save that for when I toss them your head. And your fucking children can see your dead eyes.”
Baldr lost his composure as Vladamir threatened his family, remembering how Vladamir’s father had killed his own. He let out a loud scream and swung his blade, but Vladamir parried and drove a forearm into Baldr's back, before kicking out his knee.
Baldr grunted as he fell to a knee, and Vladamir lost his composure, sensing blood seeing his rival for the Prydanian throne like this. He kicked Baldr in the gut, knocking him to his back, before the mania faded.
“Oh you bring out the fool in me Baldr,” Vladamir chuckled as he regained his composure, circling the downed Bladr like a shark.
“But the truth is what you lived through, what I’ll make your children live through before I kill them...it's just deserts for what. YOU! he yelled kicking Baldr in the ribs.
“WENT THROUGH!”
He brought his blade down and Baldr blocked it with his gauntlets.
“Clever clever clever… See this is why this is all I ever wanted. Your ancestors dared to challenge mine for our throne. And now I'll kill you,” Vladamir seethed as he pressed his blade against Baldr’s armoured forearms. Baldr growled as he let Vladimir lean in before kicking his feet out from under him. Baldr rolled away, grabbing Jægerblað and staring down a recovering Vladimir as a summer breeze blew past them.
The two closed the gap between them and locked blades once again.
“You’ve killed thousands of Prydanians already,” Baldr growled as he stared into the eyes of the man who would steal his country.
“What's a few more for good measure?” Vladamir smirked as he grinned maniacally as he pressed Baldr as they locked up.
Baldr parried left and Vladimir stumbled forward. Baldr pressed his advantage but what he had thanks to years and years of his father’s and the Santonian Royal Guard’s training Vladimir made up with mad, frantic movements. Their blades clashed and deflected off of each other as the two locked up again...
Baldéric clutched his sword tight. He'd promised Baldr he'd stay out of the fighting since taking that arrow at the Battle of the Three Rivers but…here he was. He had to find Baldr. Find him, and tell him they'd captured Vladimir’s assasins. He raced through Stormurkastala, the sounds of battle echoing from the town below.
“Baldéric!”
“JESÚS!” Baldéric called out as Sigewulf, one of Baldr’s allies from the Santonian Royal Guard, came up behind him.
“I could have fucking stabbed you!”
Sigwulf placed his hand on Baldéric to lower the sword, before nearly falling over. And Baldéric’s shock turned to concern.
“Your stomach….” he said as Sigwulf fell over, clutching himself.
“No...it's my ribs,” Sigwulf growled, “some Korovan bastard got me in my ribs.”
“You need help either way.”
“The King needs help. Go find him.”
“I don't know…”
“The roof! Up!”
Baldéric nodded, clutching his weapon as he ran off towards the central staircase of the old castle.
Baldr bashed his forearm against the face of Vladimir, but the Korovan tyrant let out a cackle and swung his blade fiercely as Baldr parried.
The two ended up facing each other against the backdrop of the sun high above the forests of Stormurholmr beyond the city and castle. Just then the sound of marching boots had both looking down. Prydanian and Santonian soldiers, with stag and heart banners fluttering, had breached Stormurkastala in full.
“Ah the cavalry!” Vladimir laughed.
“It's over Vladimir,” Baldr growled.
“The town has rebelled in our favour. We've sunk your ships in port. And now my soldiers will secure this castle. There's nowhere to run.”
“EXCEPT THROUGH YOU!” Vladimir laughed.
“There is no victory. None for you, Scylfing-Loðbrók. If I die, or if one of your traitorous dogs places a hand on me, my agents will butcher your cousins and your wife in their sleep,” he chuckled and then sneered, switching from amusement to terror just like that.
“You brought them her here, your precious Alexandra. To my world. You should have stayed on Mettera.”
Baldr’s jaw clenched. In sheer rage. This man’s family had killed his father, persecuted his family, defiled his country...and now he was threatening everyone he loved. He froze for a moment and Vladimir laughed.
“Good dog,” the Korovan tyrant smirked as he charged Baldr again. Baldr clashed blades with him, locking up once again under the northern sun.
“All hail…” Vladimir growled, “House Maksutov.”
He swung wild swipes at Baldr, the last of which Baldr had to block with his armoured gauntlets.
Baldr stared down Vladimir. Vladimir was older but he seemed powered by insanity more than anything. Still, Baldr couldn't let up. He gripped Jægerblað and cleared his mind.
“Perry, use his momentum against him,” flashed in his mind. Baldr followed the instinct, and had Vladimir off balance before the Korovan swung his blade frantically, forcing Baldr to back up to give him space. And then…
Vladimir grunted and wobbled. Baldr’s green eyes went wide as he saw Vladimir grab his shoulder…
“Baldéric!” Baldr called out as Vladimir fell down to his knees.
“His spies, we caught his spies,” Baldéric said, grabbing his own shoulder, where he’d taken the arrow. Baldr wanted to tell him he needed rest but he had something else to attend to. He looked down at Vladimir, grabbing him by the chain mail.
“You...you….” he gasped as Vladimir’s voice trembled.
“You were supposed to die here…”
“This isn't your world. Not anymore,” Baldr growled as he tossed Vladimir to the ground and kicked his sword away. He sheathed Jægerblað and hugged Baldéric.
“Thank you, brother.”
“We’ve got the castle,” Baldéric replied.
“Stigwulf and everyone else…”
“I know…” Baldr said as he hugged his friend and brother-in-law.
“Thank you…” he said as he squeezed.
“Thank you.”
Duel of the Fates (Medieval Style) by Samuel Kim, 3:36
IC:
13 June 1511
1:28 pm
On a Tuesday
Stormurholmr, Prydania
“What's really funny,” Vladimir chuckled, “is that this is all I ever wanted. You and me…” his voice drew low, like a hiss. Baldr clenched his jaw. It was unnerving.
“You, the last Loðbrók. And I, the rightful Maksutov King.”
“I’m not the last Loðbrók,” Baldr muttered.
“Oh I’ll change that,” Vladimir said with a mocking smirk. An image of his wife Alexandra, his brother, and cousins flashed through Baldr’s mind. He growled and charged Vladimir.
“If!” Baldr yelled, bringing Jægerblað down against Vladimir’s blade, “YOU!” he brought it down again. Vladimir, who had cackled at glee at the sight of the charging Prydanian King, found himself on the back foot from Baldr’s sheer anger.
“HURT! THEM!” Baldr brought his blade down hard again, “I’ll make you pay…” he seethed as he leaned into Vladimir as their blades crossed.
Vladimir though, had recovered from the shock of Baldr’s onslaught.
“THAT’S THE SPIRIT! THAT’S WHAT I WANTED!” he grinned manically.
“HIT ME!” he yelled as he pushed off from Baldr. Baldr swung his sword again, clashing with Vladimir’s as the high noon sun shone down on them from Stormurkastala and the battle below.
“I haven't harmed your bitch wife or your family, no!” Vladimir growled.
“I'll save that for when I toss them your head. And your fucking children can see your dead eyes.”
Baldr lost his composure as Vladamir threatened his family, remembering how Vladamir’s father had killed his own. He let out a loud scream and swung his blade, but Vladamir parried and drove a forearm into Baldr's back, before kicking out his knee.
Baldr grunted as he fell to a knee, and Vladamir lost his composure, sensing blood seeing his rival for the Prydanian throne like this. He kicked Baldr in the gut, knocking him to his back, before the mania faded.
“Oh you bring out the fool in me Baldr,” Vladamir chuckled as he regained his composure, circling the downed Bladr like a shark.
“But the truth is what you lived through, what I’ll make your children live through before I kill them...it's just deserts for what. YOU! he yelled kicking Baldr in the ribs.
“WENT THROUGH!”
He brought his blade down and Baldr blocked it with his gauntlets.
“Clever clever clever… See this is why this is all I ever wanted. Your ancestors dared to challenge mine for our throne. And now I'll kill you,” Vladamir seethed as he pressed his blade against Baldr’s armoured forearms. Baldr growled as he let Vladimir lean in before kicking his feet out from under him. Baldr rolled away, grabbing Jægerblað and staring down a recovering Vladimir as a summer breeze blew past them.
The two closed the gap between them and locked blades once again.
“You’ve killed thousands of Prydanians already,” Baldr growled as he stared into the eyes of the man who would steal his country.
“What's a few more for good measure?” Vladamir smirked as he grinned maniacally as he pressed Baldr as they locked up.
Baldr parried left and Vladimir stumbled forward. Baldr pressed his advantage but what he had thanks to years and years of his father’s and the Santonian Royal Guard’s training Vladimir made up with mad, frantic movements. Their blades clashed and deflected off of each other as the two locked up again...
Baldéric clutched his sword tight. He'd promised Baldr he'd stay out of the fighting since taking that arrow at the Battle of the Three Rivers but…here he was. He had to find Baldr. Find him, and tell him they'd captured Vladimir’s assasins. He raced through Stormurkastala, the sounds of battle echoing from the town below.
“Baldéric!”
“JESÚS!” Baldéric called out as Sigewulf, one of Baldr’s allies from the Santonian Royal Guard, came up behind him.
“I could have fucking stabbed you!”
Sigwulf placed his hand on Baldéric to lower the sword, before nearly falling over. And Baldéric’s shock turned to concern.
“Your stomach….” he said as Sigwulf fell over, clutching himself.
“No...it's my ribs,” Sigwulf growled, “some Korovan bastard got me in my ribs.”
“You need help either way.”
“The King needs help. Go find him.”
“I don't know…”
“The roof! Up!”
Baldéric nodded, clutching his weapon as he ran off towards the central staircase of the old castle.
Baldr bashed his forearm against the face of Vladimir, but the Korovan tyrant let out a cackle and swung his blade fiercely as Baldr parried.
The two ended up facing each other against the backdrop of the sun high above the forests of Stormurholmr beyond the city and castle. Just then the sound of marching boots had both looking down. Prydanian and Santonian soldiers, with stag and heart banners fluttering, had breached Stormurkastala in full.
“Ah the cavalry!” Vladimir laughed.
“It's over Vladimir,” Baldr growled.
“The town has rebelled in our favour. We've sunk your ships in port. And now my soldiers will secure this castle. There's nowhere to run.”
“EXCEPT THROUGH YOU!” Vladimir laughed.
“There is no victory. None for you, Scylfing-Loðbrók. If I die, or if one of your traitorous dogs places a hand on me, my agents will butcher your cousins and your wife in their sleep,” he chuckled and then sneered, switching from amusement to terror just like that.
“You brought them her here, your precious Alexandra. To my world. You should have stayed on Mettera.”
Baldr’s jaw clenched. In sheer rage. This man’s family had killed his father, persecuted his family, defiled his country...and now he was threatening everyone he loved. He froze for a moment and Vladimir laughed.
“Good dog,” the Korovan tyrant smirked as he charged Baldr again. Baldr clashed blades with him, locking up once again under the northern sun.
“All hail…” Vladimir growled, “House Maksutov.”
He swung wild swipes at Baldr, the last of which Baldr had to block with his armoured gauntlets.
Baldr stared down Vladimir. Vladimir was older but he seemed powered by insanity more than anything. Still, Baldr couldn't let up. He gripped Jægerblað and cleared his mind.
“Perry, use his momentum against him,” flashed in his mind. Baldr followed the instinct, and had Vladimir off balance before the Korovan swung his blade frantically, forcing Baldr to back up to give him space. And then…
Vladimir grunted and wobbled. Baldr’s green eyes went wide as he saw Vladimir grab his shoulder…
“Baldéric!” Baldr called out as Vladimir fell down to his knees.
“His spies, we caught his spies,” Baldéric said, grabbing his own shoulder, where he’d taken the arrow. Baldr wanted to tell him he needed rest but he had something else to attend to. He looked down at Vladimir, grabbing him by the chain mail.
“You...you….” he gasped as Vladimir’s voice trembled.
“You were supposed to die here…”
“This isn't your world. Not anymore,” Baldr growled as he tossed Vladimir to the ground and kicked his sword away. He sheathed Jægerblað and hugged Baldéric.
“Thank you, brother.”
“We’ve got the castle,” Baldéric replied.
“Stigwulf and everyone else…”
“I know…” Baldr said as he hugged his friend and brother-in-law.
“Thank you…” he said as he squeezed.
“Thank you.”
Duel of the Fates (Medieval Style) by Samuel Kim, 3:36
Last edited: