The Price of Peace - Melpomene

Moderators: Forum Moderators, Active DMs

Post Reply
A Midsummer Nightmare
Posts: 9
Joined: Fri Feb 12, 2021 10:32 pm

The Price of Peace - Melpomene

Post by A Midsummer Nightmare » Sun Dec 19, 2021 2:14 am

Image


Image


Image


The sounds of screaming children filled the meager dining hall of the orphanage as a massive and chaotic battle ensued between all of them. The matron was at a loss on what to do or how this even came about, frantically trying to stop the children as well as calm the worries of potential parents who followed her inside. A grim line formed as she spotted a particular golden-red-haired urchin in the center of the chaos, throwing punches as well as she was taking them. "Melpomene! This is a dining hall, not a battlefield! Cease at once!"

A few of the children immediately paused in their fight at the Matron's yell, though it wasn't until one of the potential parents, a muscular and battle-scarred man with a copper ring on the third finger of his left hand entered the fray. As the children stopped, a whispering filled the hall; "A hero..." In the end, only Melpomene and the black haired boy she was fighting continued the chaos. The matron grabbed both by their ears and separated them, aided by the stranger.

"What is the meaning of this?! I taught you better than this! Melpomene, explain! Now!" As the matron shrieked at the young girl, she responded with a sour expression before looking away in anger, bloody hands clenched. Both children were bruised and battered from past fights, though it was the young girl who begrudgingly grumbled an answer first. "'E's a bully... 'e keeps pickin' on the others. I'm teachin' 'im 'is place..."

As the matron took a deep breath to begin her long-winded scolding, the man held his left hand up, using the power of that ring to silence her. Kneeling down, he looked between the children for several moments, appraising and inspecting them before focusing his attention on the golden-red-haired urchin. "War is ugly, girl. You get hurt as much as you hurt others and lose those closest to you... And yet, we of Cimbar continue to fight. Do you know why?"

As the girl shook her head 'no,' he continued, "Because we have a reason to fight. Because we fight not for ourselves, or for glory, but for those who can't fight. We fight to protect this city and everyone in it. To protect those we love. You say you fight for the others? Good, you're fighting for the right reasons. Make sure you never fight for the wrong ones or you'll lose your way." He glances to the boy briefly before standing and places a hand on Melpomene's head, aiming his gaze on the Matron. "I'll take the girl to raise. She'll do better under my care than she will here."
Last edited by A Midsummer Nightmare on Sun Jan 09, 2022 11:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.

A Midsummer Nightmare
Posts: 9
Joined: Fri Feb 12, 2021 10:32 pm

The Price of Peace - Melpomene

Post by A Midsummer Nightmare » Sat Jan 01, 2022 5:54 pm

Image

Image


Image
Image


The stench of death was overwhelming, blood staining the sands of the shoreline and even the high tide coming in. Beyond, several invading ships began to sink below the surface of the sea, broken and magically set aflame. The invading forces of Soorenar had been stopped before they could reach the port of Cimbar, though it had not come without cost. As the survivors of the losing army fled, the warriors from Cimbar were left alone with the dead and dying. Those from Soorenar would be allowed to collect their own dead in time, but for now those from Cimbar would search the battlefield for who could still be saved.

A young warrior limped amongst the remains of the dead, her deep blue eyes searching for those familiar to her, those still breathing. Holding a gash in her side, she was covered in bruises and cuts, her lip split though, as terrible as she looked, she was yet alive. She had survived her first battle, though no amount of training over the past two decades could have prepared her for this fight, or what she was soon to find.

Her eyes widened as she spot a young man her age with shorn, dark hair. He was gasping, struggling for breath, face wrenched in agony from all his wounds. Pushing through her own pain, she rushed over to him, cradling his head. "Be still, Vasileios for we have won! It is over now. I'll summon a medic!" Panicked, she raised her gaze to scream for one of the few healers left alive. The man's coughing fit snapped her attention back to him in horror as his life slowly faded from him, traveling to Kelemvor's domain. Petrified, she continued holding him in shock as memories rushed through her mind...

"I'm going to be the Hero of this battle, Mene. Just you wait and see!" A young warrior grinned, stretching out his arms amidst the restless army of Cimbar just beyond the shore, limbering up for the coming fight.

The woman he spoke to simply shook her head, an anxious frown forming. "War is not something to look forward to, Vasileios. I... I don't want to think about who we're going to lose. If this fight will be my last... Father says--"

She was cut off by the young man scoffing. "Your father is the Hero of the Broken Wall! It's easy for him to fill your head with nonsense about how you should only fight as a last resort and war is bad. He's already got his title and nobility!" Shaking his head, he looked up with a glint of determination in his pale blue gaze. "You'll all see. This is the battle I earn the title of Hero. I can feel it."


For his efforts, despite it being his first battle, Vasileios Axiotis was indeed granted the title of Hero of the Bloody Shore; posthumously.

A Midsummer Nightmare
Posts: 9
Joined: Fri Feb 12, 2021 10:32 pm

The Price of Peace - Melpomene

Post by A Midsummer Nightmare » Mon Jan 03, 2022 5:43 am

Image

Image

Image
Image


Cheers of victory burst through the quiet town violently, shadowed by the retreating steps and hooves of the invading forces of Airspur. The town was close, too close to Cimbar for comfort to allow them to be invaded by the enemy, and so as they watched the town catch aflame by the battalion, they sent in soldiers of their own, along with skilled wizards they could spare. Victory would have been theirs regardless with the superiority of their equipment and magic, though the celebration felt long overdue to the warriors who wanted it ended quickly.

A large procession trotted through the town, nobles and heroes on horseback as they waved around Cimbar's banner with pride. Many eyes were on them in hope and reassurance that their city would be safe. They had won, after all. Fire surrounded them and a few of the wizards deemed it necessary to put out what flames they could with the arcane magic they could spare. A few soldiers even helped, carrying buckets from the well to the houses in an attempt to salvage what remained of the town of Amaseia.

One woman stood silent, her shoulder dislocated from her last fight along with the addition of several wounds to add to her growing collection of scars. Her dark blue eyes seemed trained on the procession, though as they passed her, she remained staring behind them. Bodies littered the ground, though not all of them were warriors from either side of the battle. Many were villagers caught in the fray, victims before help had arrived. Her eyes wandered as she took in the various ages of the slain, even a few livestock and dogs joining them amidst the carnage.

Filled with despair, her eyes began to water though she sent a silent prayer not to allow even a single tear to fall. Clenching her jaw, she maintained focus to not show such weakness, her sorrow for the fallen joining her current agony. Muscles tense, distracted by the burning horror before her, she didn't notice the graying man step up behind her and grab her injured shoulder in a tight grip. Before she could response, a sickening pop was heard as he relocated her shoulder, the man looking at her with grim understanding.

"Father," she acknowledged in a thick voice, unable to say much more without breaking from the physical and emotional agony. As she stared at him with heartbreak, she noticed he was missing part of his ear. Closing her eyes briefly, she took in deep breaths to regain composure, rolling her relocated shoulder with a pained grimace.

Despite the lack of words, the graying and wounded warrior seemed to understand exactly how she felt. Laying a gentle hand on her other shoulder in comfort, he said, "It would have been worse if we had not arrived at all, Child. Remember that or the guilt will eat you alive. We cannot save everyone... We can, however, do our best to save as many as possible. We can fight to protect our own bright city. To protect those inside from seeing the true horrors of the world."

Slowly opening her eyes as he spoke, she nods at him once in an attempt of acceptance. After a moment, her dark gaze returns to roaming the macabre display left behind the victorious celebration. Hesitantly, she softly asks, "...Does it ever get better?" Hope was heard in her voice, though she didn't dare to look at her adoptive father in fear of the answer, knowing his blunt personality.

"No, Child. You may experience some battles with happier endings... But it will never get 'better.' Even when the war is over. Everlasting peace does not exist. We can, however, earn our people a brief respite through bloodshed. We can sacrifice ourselves and our sanity to protect them from death, enslavement, and the cruelty of others. We can fight for those who cannot."

Shaking her head in disappointment, her face wrenches in sorrow though she wills herself not to shed a single tear in front of her mentor and father. Her voice is hollow as she responds to him, staring at the lifeless forms of her fallen brethren.

"The price of peace is bloody and endless."

Post Reply