Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Getting It O'Vyr And Done With

op32c1.png
Location: Tynt Sjalfur, Skógur Heim​
Season: Early Fall​
Time: Mid-Morning​
Tag: [member="Emyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
Time was running out, and the Queen of Tynt Sjalfur could feel it with every breath she took of the chill morning air. Between the need to bring in enough game to see them through the winter, and this ridiculous tournament that her council insisted that she throw; there would be little time to actually govern her people or establish herself as their ruler. Perhaps with some luck, there would be a suitor or two that wouldn't be a complete waste of flesh - though she doubted it. It had been her parents' greatest sorrow that she'd not at least had a brother to continue on the line with her... A mated pair would have been an assurance of the continuation of their line, and with none but herself remaining from the original O'Vyr line - this particular monarchy would die with her. Unless of course, she could find a worthy match for herself and hopefully pass on enough of her jeans to create another pair herself.

Heavy footfalls carried the massive woman through the tight, earthen streets of her village, the gentle sway of her steps causing the small metal pieces of her armor to clink and tinkle. The sky was clear, only a small smattering of wispy white clouds obscuring fractions of the crisp blue expanse above her. She could see at the end of the row of neat, wooden houses she strode among, that the mountains to the west of their village were capped with white... Winter would be upon them soon enough, and the leaves would soon change and fall, leaving them little choice but to hunker down in their longhouses until the seasons changed again.

The monarch had many pleasant memories of the months they would spend cooped up indoors, sharing meals warmed over communal fires in large pits in the centre of the lodges. Her parents had often insisted that she sit amount the thanes and listen as they would plan the raids for the spring and take inventory of food stores or their ships. She'd learned so much in those long winter months - but she was feeling assured that this year would be very different. If she didn't find a suitable match before the snows set in deep, she'd be left to try and solidify her station amongst a den of wolves... Even with the other wolves on their doorstep, it was the men of her council that she felt ill at ease about. One of those Lupine creatures could be crushed easily enough - but she doubted very much that crushing each member of her council who opposed her would bring her the same level of peace.

Her mismatched eyes still scanned the skies silently as she caught sight of something faint. There was something sort of like a dark smudge, far in the distance - though as she watched it grew ever darker. The size and the colour shifted dramatically as whatever this was came careening through the sky, igniting as it came ever closer, a massive ball of something shiny and now aflame. Morrígan's morning walk completely halted as her jaw dropped open a touch, her wide eyes confused as this thing fell through the sky. There was no chance that this object wasn't going to embed itself into the ground, but with luck, it would fall short of their village.

The tremor as it made landfall caused bushels of hay that had been leaned against stables in preparation for winter to tumble to the ground, items falling from shelves inside of the wooden homes on either side of her, the startled screams of villagers and the eruption of cries from the youngest denizens of Tynt Sjalfur. As silence and stillness fell once more, the Queen took only a moment to thank the skies above that whatever this was hadn't crushed them all and bellowed a cry, "Ǘlfhéõnar! To me!" Her voice cut through that crisp, morning silence as she heard the horde begin to rouse themselves, gathering shields and swords. The monarch was already dressed to bear and had no need for such things, so she instead took off at a loping pace towards whatever this thing was, trusting her mounted warriors to follow.
 
Location: Crash Site, Tynt Sjalfur​
Tag: [member="Morrigan O'Vyr"]​

The Nagai were sure of their arms.

One of the earliest lessons ever imparted from father to son was that the upkeep of one's tools was an absolute necessity. A blade which was well maintained might spell the difference between life or death on the battlefield. Better still, a blaster that was cleaned and calibrated would serve better when the harshest conditions arrived. Yet, Emyr had gotten lax in one of the areas of routine upkeep. Lax due to the fact that he had not had to attend to this area in quite some time. During his tenure as a Knight of Ren, the Nagai found that his equipment and vessels were always in tip-top shape without his input. As a result, he never learned what all went into making sure that a starfighter continued to fly - or what sort of routine maintenance was required.

Thus, when the rattling began and finally exploded, Emyr was a sitting duck. The forces which consumed the cockpit of his vessel were astronomical. Concussive force caused the gray-skinned man to be hurtled forward in the pilot's seat, painfully bashing his chin upon the console. Dazed, he was then unable to clutch as the controls in order to provide any guidance to the ship. If he were in his right state of mind, he might have been able to guide the ship to a safe, emergency landing wherever the realspace reversion took place. However, as the taste of blood quickly began to fill his mouth, Emyr's vessel immediately was caught in the gravitational pull of a strange world. One that he had never intended to visit.

Yet now, he was visiting as a burning streak in the sky.

Unable to think. Unable to brace. Emyr was at the mercy of the onboard safety measures when impact finally occurred. Thunder rippled through his bones as the impact - lessened by inertial dampeners and air bags - rattled the man about the ship. When the hulking mass of durasteel finally skidded to a halt, a long trail of marred earth announced where he had landed. But he was whole. Aching. Battered more than he would ever have liked. But whole. Emyr pushed himself up off the remains of the shattered floor and looked about the cockpit, attempting to see past the blood which now raced down from his forehead. There...there was no getting to his supplies right now. Not while the possibility of fire was on the table. He had to get out now and check back in a few moments.

The Force was what would liberate the Nagai...as well as announce his presence to the natives. A mighty, telekinetic heave saw the disfigured entry doors blown clean off in order to permit his disembarking. The metal doors would bounce upon the earth once, twice, and skid to a halt before the raging hooves of the mounted warriors. As for Emyr, he managed to slump his way out of the ship, stagger a step, before sinking to the earth. The pain in his side was indicative of either a cracked, broken, or bruised rib - but he did not have the means to verify at the moment. Rather, all he could do was squint against the blood obscuring his eyesight and raise his hands in the universal sign of surrender as the roar of hooves filled his ear.

He had survived a crash...but would he survive the natives?
 
Location: Crash Site, Skógur Heim​
Tag: [member="Emyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png

She hadn’t been on foot long when the sound of thundering hooves and the cries of her warriors reached her ears. One quick glance over her shoulder told her that, as always, the raiders of Tynt Sjalfur had been prepared as they needed to be. Nearly two dozen of her best riders were bearing down on her, the lead man with an extra set of reins in hand, her massive warhorse saddled and cantering at their side. Morrígan slowed only a touch as she stepped to one side and lifted her hands. As the group reached her, the lead rider tossed the reins of her gelding to the side she stood on and with one fluid motion she gripped the pommel of the saddle and allowed the momentum of the beast to lift her off her feet and swing her up into the saddle.

It took only a quick lay-in of her heels at the beast’s sides and forward tilt of her hips to bring her horse to the head of the party, drawing her short sword from the sheath at her hip as she raised it above her head and gave a cry. The answering chorus of shouts made her heart sing. The politics of her small village were complex, and the place she found herself in was more complicated still – but this was simple. Leading these men into the uncertainty of what battle could be was something that no one questioned, no one looked askance at. No, when she rode at the head of her people, she was their Queen, and it would not do to think a moment more.

They followed the billowing of smoke on the horizon, galloping through the dense temperate forest as they waited for their quarry to come into sight. The sound of something large and metal thudding into the earth ahead told the monarch that they were close, and she motioned silently for her men to slow up. All obeyed without a word, allowing her to break ahead as she caught sight of the wreck between the trees. Their party broke the treeline in waves, Morrígan moving to sit mounted before the grey-skinned outsider as her riders circled to form a perimeter.

Her own horse was lathered, the ride having been made with the utmost haste, and it chuffed, chomping at the bit between its teeth in annoyance. The giant of a woman was also looking annoyed as her cool, mismatched gaze raked across the wreckage and landed on the grey-skinned man standing with his hands up at the sides of his head. Silence was settling across the gathered group as the riders took up their places, weapons bare in their hands and cutting off all easy routes of escape. The only sound for a time was the settling of the ship and the angry huffs and whinnies of the beasts that had been made to run so far.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm despite the displeasure in her eyes. She hefted the sword in her hand to point the tip down at the man’s chest. There was a distance between them that wouldn’t make the gesture a threat just yet, but it made things very clear with regards to who was armed in this situation. “Do you speak?
 
Location: Crash Site, Skógur Heim​
Tag: [member="Morrigan O'Vyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
Well this was a right mess…

The reality of the Nagai's predicament began to manifest itself as his amber gaze fell upon the thunderous hooves. Mounted warriors were inbound to his location, hellbent on ascertaining the nature of the foreign invader. This was...well within their right. After all, it was Emyr who had trespassed into their homeworld and disrupted their daily lives with his presence. As a result, the Nagai's mind began to move at a mile a minute, attempting to think through the agony which dominated his side. It was difficult to do, what with oxygen being restricted due to the way his ribs were currently…situated. But, he attempted nonetheless. For, if he was not smart, he might not be alive long enough to see his ribs tended to.

His first thought was to explore with the Force. To reach out and touch the minds of those coming to see if there was anything exploitable. To see...if perhaps he could throw a wrench into their organization in the event that things went belly up. But, as the hooves roared to a halt, he immediately dismissed that notion. Frankly, it would be a waste of energy he did not have to spare at the moment. No..The best play was to comply. See what the natives of this world had to say about his presence and react accordingly. It was not the most elegant solution, but he hoped that it would keep him alive long enough to see the sun set. At the very least. Thus, Emyr remained steadfast with his hands raised nonthreatingly.

It was then that the leader made herself apparent. She leveled mismatched eyes upon him and angled her blade in his direction. Her voice, accented as it was, formed words of the common tongue. That was a relief. At least he would not need to expend the energy to translate on the fly. Good. Did he speak? Emyr raised and lowered his head in a nod...but quickly remembered that some cultures took universal symbols for yes as symbols for no. Thus, he spoke through the agony as well. "Yes." he began. And, though unbidden as of yet, he briefly introduced himself. More often than not, downed pilots would provide their name, country of origin, and "intentions" to whoever discovered them.

Thus, Emyr would do the same. "I am Emyr. I am from the Confederacy of Independent Systems. I come in peace."

He hoped that this was enough to keep the woman's blade in her hand and not buried in his flesh.
 
Location: Crash Site, Skoger Heim
Tag: [member="Emyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
Few things in the monarch's life were simple, with the exception of perhaps her relationship with her blade and her warriors... Maybe her horse. Her thanes demanded of her, her people demanded of her, tradition and circumstance demanded of her - and much of it was not something she could easily answer to. So when the strange man simply nodded and spoke to her in the language they shared, she couldn't help the curious smile that touched the side of her mouth. Thank goodness... Something simple.

Seeing the grey-skinned man wince, her browns rose ever so slightly and the large woman lowered the tip of her blade. She could see that the effort it took him to keep his arms raised was painful to him. She could see it in the way his breathing was short, that one arm was slightly higher than the other, and the way that his words were strained. It seemed that his arrival here had been painful... With that line of thought, the Queen lifted her eyes to the ship at his back. Her sword dipped another few inches as she had to fight the urge to let her jaw drop.

The wolves had ships... She had seen them. Flying over their village from time to time, sweeping like falling stars through the night skies - and every one of them was a wonder to her. They had nothing like these massive, hollow shells that propelled their enemies through the skies and having one here, so close, and so easily accessible... She glanced to one of the riders to her right and spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper to avoid the outsider hearing her.

"Collect him. We'll bring him back to the village, and half of us will remain to look at this... Thing." She motioned with a sharp jerk of her chin towards what remained of the wreckage that had once been the man's ship. With that said, the man turned and began to trot along the ranks to relay the information while the woman gripped the pommel of her saddle, sitting up high in her stirrups before she lifted one leg and swung off the back of the horse. The solid thud she made as her feet hit the dirt was a testimate to her size, though there would be little doubt of that as she turned and approached Emyr, her blade still naked in her hand.

"Outsider. You'll come with us."
 
Location: Crash Site, Skoger Heim​
Tag: [member="Morrigan O'Vyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
The Nagai felt his breath catch in his lungs.

For a few moments, everything progressed the way that he hoped it would. Of course the lead rider - the woman with the sword drawn - would confer with her subordinates in private. It did not take a genius for him to discern that they were either addressing his fate, or addressing the smouldering hunk of metal which laid behind him. T'was for that reason (and for the sake of conserving his own energies) that he did not call upon his talents. No, that could wait until he absolutely needed to preserve his life. Nonetheless, despite how unthreatening he attempted to make himself, Emyr's gaze moved from rider to rider. He took their builds into consideration. Their visible arms and armor. Even the eyes of the mounts they sat astride. Every shred of information would be useful if it came down to a battle of life and death.

And as the woman descended from her steed, Emyr came to realize that not a single warrior bore a ranged weapon. Not a single bow, nor blaster, was in sight. Good. If it came down to it, he could play to distance. It would be a struggle to keep the gap between them - but for a few precious seconds, he could exhaust his last and keep them at bay. With this fledgling ideal in mind, the Nagai awaited the approach of the monarch. He kept his gaze even and did his best to maintain the level of his arms. However, as her advance came to a close, he noticed that the blade did not once raise in order to deliver a finishing blow. No longer did she raise it to point at him; yet the weapon was very much there. Emyr did not realize he was holding his breath until she spoke, informing him that he would be joining them.

"Of course." His words were brief and uttered with an even tone, despite how much his lungs wanted to catch themselves. Coupled with this, he lowered his head in a show of respect - one that he assumed would be universally recognized. She was the one who held the sword, and until she decided to use it, he would play the part and ensure his survival. "May I stand? I will keep my hands where you can see them." Like any "non human", the Nagai had enough run ins with xenophobic figures of authority to know how to conduct himself. Appear as nonthreatening as possible. Make no sudden movements. Kindly announce where his hands and movements would be before taking them.

He only hoped that such things would work upon the Warrior Queen.
 
Location: Crash Site, Skóger Heim​
Tag: [member="Emyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
The blade that had remained naked in her hand moved in a swift arch, the tip dipping back into the sheath that lay against her left hip. It was situated in such a way that it would allow for a swift, cross-body draw if she required it again, though, by the looks of the kneeling, grey-skinned man, she wouldn't need to be bothered. That was the thing with these beings that dreamt of the stars... Whether it was the Lupine scourage or this kneeling stranger, none of them cultivated the same physical strength that her people did. This man was small, frail, and judging by the flinching at the corners of his eyes when he spoke, injured.

He wasn't a complete fool, however; the gentle incline of his head and his ready acceptance of her "offer" for him to return with them indicated that he had a good grasp on the situation. With her blade safely stowed, the monarch drew close to the kneeling outsider, those eerie mismatched eyes regarding him cooly as her feet settled before his knees. She lowered one large hand and grasped the man's forearm, hauling him up in one sharp jerk. She kept the grip on his arm until she was sure he was steady on his feet before she addressed him again.

"You'll ride back with me," she said, her tone matter of fact as she kept that disarming gaze locked on his. "You'll tell me where you've come from, and you'll tell me of this metal carriage you've crashed into my woods." She motioned with the hand that did not grip his own to the wreckage at his back. Her eyes narrowed as she lowered her voice a few octaves, the grip on his arm going from steadying to nearly crushing it in an instant, "And you'll tell me what it is that you're doing on Skóger Heim." Her tone left no room for argument, and her steady glare even less so.

"Come." The single word was spoken as an order as she released him and turned back to her gelding, collecting the reins in her hands and easily swinging herself back up into the saddle. She offered him the same hand she'd used to nearly crush his arm as a means to join her astride the horse. As she awaited his decision, she turned to the other riders gathered and nodded to the man seated astride a stallion to her right. At her nod, he gave a shrill cry and the gathered group started to move once more, half of them seemingly turning back to the village, the other half beginning to dismount.
 
Location: Crash Site, Skóger Heim​
Tag: [member="Morrigan O'Vyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png

Only when the blade grinded against the flesh of its sheath did the Nagai feel a modicum of relief. Given the circumstances he found himself in, any sign that his life would continue past this afternoon was more than welcome. And, though he was far from lowering his guard, he did feel just a touch more comfortable with the presence of the Monarch. That was not to say that he did not respect the fact that his life effectively rested in her hands - but more to say that he had no intention of pissing her off in particular. Nonetheless, his amber gaze followed the descent of her form in silence. He made not a word, not a sound, until she seized his forearm and pried him to his feet.

His ribs were having none of that and screamed in protest the moment the motion was complete. Emyr gasped a breath as the pain radiated anew, but quickly found his footing. For what he was not about to do was have the warrior toss him over her shoulder. She was "kind" enough to tarry there, holding his arm aloft so that he could find his balance. But the Nagai soon found that her iron grasp did not recede once he clearly demonstrated that he would not be falling over anytime soon. Rather, the grasp of her fingers only seemed to tighten. Painfully. However, compared to the fresh Hell wreaking havoc on his sides, this sting was a welcome change of pace. "Welcome."

His gaze found hers and did not waver. And though her grasp became crushing, Emyr once more nodded. Once more, he made things as simple as possible. When she saw fit to release him, for there was no room to argue, she led the way back to her faithful steed and mounted the beast effortlessly. By her sheer might did she then hoist him into place behind her - yet Emyr dared not grasp her to steady himself. Rather, he burned through a fragment of his power in order to ground himself upon the steed. The Monarch would soon find that, no matter how bumpy the ride back became, he would be the last thing to fall off the steed.

And when she began the voyage back, only then would he begin to speak. Due to the proximity of his form to her ear, it would not be difficult to hear him over the hooves and the rush of air as they rode. "I come from the Confederacy of Independent Systems." he began, carefully selecting his words. Based upon the fact that she called his ship a metal carriage, he figured that their people were just as primitive as they looked. And therefore, attempted to word things in a way she could understand easily. "It is a community of planets, not too far from this one."

"The metal carriage is called a starship. It was my home up until today. I use it to travel between the worlds. I will gladly tell you anything you wish about it." He paused, wincing as the steed rumbled over a particularly bumpy patch. "In truth, I had no intention of disturbing your woods or Skóger Heim. I was traveling to my next job when something broke on my starship. The damage prevented it from flying anymore and I crashed here."

He kept his explanations simple. If she wanted to know more beyond that, she would find no difficulty in receiving it. For now, he peered over her shoulder as buildings began to come into view.
 
Location: Tynt Sjalfur, Skoger Heim​
Tag: [member="Emyr"]​
NEWBLUE1.png
He rode well enough, for which she was grateful. When she'd hoisted the man to his feet and held his there, she could see plainly writ in his features the pain he was in. She was unsure of the source, but it mattered little if he could stand, and even less if he could ride. The lack of his arms at her waist when the gelding had jerked into motion had caused her a moment of curiosity; peering over her shoulder to see that he'd somehow managed to keep himself in the massive saddle of the beast. Whether it was a firm grip with his thighs or ought else, she wasn't sure - but once again it mattered little.

The ride back to the village was filled with extremely one sided conversation. There were times, as the outsider spoke, that Morrigan could tell he was waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from her. She'd give the man small, curt nods or a gentle huffs of her breath in answer to his pregnant silences - but she did not speak as she carried him back. She had seen these starships, as he called them, with the Wolves on the other side of the continent. There had never been cause for her to be close to them, but she'd seen them in the skies before, and she knew that they spelled nothing but trouble. If this man was lying, and there were more of these things about, she wanted to be back at the village with her people to defend it. As a result her focus was, in part, elsewhere as they rode.

The horse gave a soft noise in annoyance as the monarch felt the weight at her back shift, able to feel as the outsider peered around her shoulder at the small village she called home, Tynt Sjalfur. A collection of rough hewn homes, all built with naturally occurring materials from the planet itself, and no sign of the finely wrought metals that Skoger Heim was known for. They rode in together to a large set of stables that were set along the edge of the village proper, and as they rounded to the entrance to the stalls, the woman dismounted with the same sort of effortless grace that she had swung into the saddle originally.

Several scruffy looking children hurried forward to take the reins and began to tend to the animal as the woman offered Emyr her hand to assist with dismounting himself. Regardless of how it was done, once the outsider was back on solid ground he was treated to a stoic finger thrust towards a building that didn't appear quite like the others. Set several street-lengths off from the rest of the organically situated village homes was one that did not appear to have been given the same loving treatment the others were. From the scrolling rune-work in the wooden support beams, to the herbs strung up and gently swaying in many windows, most homes here looked lived in, worn but tended to. This building was newer, the beams just as sturdy and solid, but none of the care taken to make it appear as a home.

"You'll tell me more while our resident wolf takes a look at your wounds, outsider. Move." The hand that was not currently pointing to their destination set between his shoulder blades as the woman gave him a shove, beginning to move herself. At their backs the sound of the other riders arriving and dismounting was clear, but there was something about her calm tone and persistent pointing that gave the impression she was unwilling to let him stand around to witness their entourage's arrival.
 
Location: Tynt Sjalfur, Skoger Heim​
Tag: [member="Morrigan O'Vyr"]​

NEWBLUE1.png

As far as first impressions went, the Nagai classified the woman before him as quite the conversationalist. Actually, no. Quite the opposite. Throughout their journey back from the crash site, the words he uttered were punctuated near exclusively by the mount underneath them. The monarch did little more than nod her head, or huff, in response to the questions he answered. However, he did not press the issue - for she was the one with the sword and he was simply attempting to see the morrow. Thus, when the beast entered into the settlement, Emyr did indulge in a look over her shoulder, but did not forestall her disembarking. When she took that effortless plunge from the horse, he forced himself to do the same - only using her hand to steady himself when the pain manifested freshly.

Her shove did not help and caused him to stagger one step. However, he did not delay her footsteps any further than that and immediately forced himself forward. At a glance, their final destination was a rather newer home in comparison to the rest of the community. However...how far away it had been erected seemed a little out of place as far as construction patterns went. That, and the cultural markings that Emyr could make out on the other homes were not present on this one. No runes. No axes over the door. Nothing. It was not for him to understand in the moment, as at the very least relief laid just beyond the door. He did not even have to knock, for the door swung open to receive them before they even made it within knocking distance.

Out stepped a woman who was a stark contradiction to the rest of the community. Gentle was what Emyr thought to describe her, for it appeared as though she had never wielded an axe in all her days. The monarch looked as though she could have sneezed hard enough to snap this woman in two. However, despite her seemingly soft exterior, there was experience burning within her eyes. She bowed low before the monarch briefly, before ushering them into the home. Emyr could feel the "resident wolf's" eyes upon him as they entered, and she promptly made him take a seat upon a padded, wooden chair. "Broken ribs." she diagnosed, without so much as touching him. "Eat this for the pain."

A bundle of leaves were handed to him and Emyr complied. After all, if the monarch wanted him dead, she had a sword right on her waist. Chewing the bitter leaves over was a chore in of themselves, and they left his tongue feeling quite numb, but upon swallowing...he could breathe again. Relief raced through him as she began feeling about his form, ascertaining where - if any - additional injuries were. And whilst she worked, the Nagai lowered his head to the monarch. "Thank you." he said simply. "Any questions you have, I will answer in full."

Making things easier got him this far, he'd certainly continue to see how it played out.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom