[Locked to Redflight] Sent into battle

[telaari]

Who: Vastania and the Red Dragonsworn
What: After a bit of divine inspiration, Vas is digging in her hooves and organizing people.
Where: The Ruby Sanctum
When: Backdated to the 5th
Warnings: Nothing NSFW, but Vas is likely to literally knock some sense into people if they're stubborn. Nothing that'll hurt too bad, but enough to rattle most people.

"I kneel before You to beg Your aid."

The words of the prayer come more easily to her in Eredun than in Common. "I carry Your standard in a strange land, far away from the reach of the Exiles.

"There are demons at our neck. Guide my blade and let it cleanse them of their corruption. Let my shield be immovable, unable to buckle beneath their terrible blows.

"Grant me the strength to face my maddened forefathers. Let me not fall into their corruption even as I strike them." A pause. "Grant me the strength to tell my allies of the Defiled Ones, and bless them with the sense to see that I am of Your domain. Let them see that I am Exiled for following Your command and that of the Prophet."

Another pause. Her voice drops to a whisper, even though she knows that no-one else here speaks her native language.

"O Light, grant them sense, and me the strength to lead them!"

She waits, still kneeling, for an answer. The Light stirs, but it offers none.

Vastania waits a while still, silent. If Fin could see her now, she'd likely laugh until her tail fell off. No- Fin would knock her onto her tail and tell her to get back up, that's what she'd do. She'd ask what she was doing, dragging her hooves and moping when there was work to be done. And she'd have had these humans trained and drilled ten days ago.

The Light stirs again. Your answer.

The Vindicator looks up sharply. The Light is usually not very straightforward, but even she understands what this means. She utters a word of thanks and draws herself up, sheathing her sword. To be more like Fin... she closes her eyes for a moment and imagines what it must be like, to have those outstretched horns and heavy armor, carrying that claymore as if it was a feather. What it must be like to be so surefooted, so confident, that she might go into battle with a smirk on her face.

What she would do to prepare them if she was here. What she would do if the others refused to listen.

She walks to the edge of the Sanctum's central pond, then turns so she faces away from it. Vas breathes in deeply once, twice, to quell her shaking nerves. A third time, to clear her head.

A fourth, to issue her command.

"Dragonsworn, to me! Today, you will learn to be soldiers in this war against the Legion!"

Comments

Class Training Subthread! OPEN

[seesbosscrotch]

Ha! Now that was proper Vindicator spirit! Mar liked to believe he'd had some influence in inspiring her, though frankly, it truly didn't matter, did it.

"I shall be your teacher in the ways of Azerothian spells and steel!" the paladin bellowed in a voice that had cut across countless battlefields in its time. "If you haven't yet practiced their arts, or discovered how you fit here, I shall help you find your path!"

Pretty dramatically, he swung the larger of his two weapons (Zin'rokh, Destroyer of Worlds, and yes it was the original, not the archaeology version) to a perfect vertical, the better to draw attention. And the better to indicate that yes, if he could do something like that (claymore as if it were a feather &tc.), he might know a thing or two about what he wanted to teach them.

[wilder]

Zelos, or Kaneis as he's been telling the other Sworn that was his name, was...less than certain about these teachers. He could see that Vastania was a good person with good intentions, but from the way she talked and reacted to things- he had the strong sneaking suspicion she was a girl very fresh out of the abbey. Or whatever was the Draenei equivalent to an abbey. Meanwhile Maridian seemed a bit more worldy, and he was definitely seemed more friendly than any elf Zelos had encountered before.

But, like most of the rest of the others Redsworn, he was pretty sure that Maridian was completely, and absolutely, insane. Not even just a little insane, a lot insane.

However it wasn't like they had much of a choice. Questionable qualifications to be teachers or not, at least they knew some stuff about this world. Which was more than he could say.

And so, when they call he'll approach and address the two, in his usual apathetic and sarcastic tone.

"I dunno, what's the path for a guy who can only do the fire thingy? Because with fighting a Burning Legion, I can't but feel like it's just gonna be a path ending with a whole lotta dead."

[telaari]

Kaneis. Of all the other Redsworn she's met, he's stuck in her mind as probably one of the more capable members of their ragtag group, but he wasn't wrong when he said he had a way of trying peoples' nerves. She steels herself, still trying to channel that Warrior persona.

"You have a sword, yes? Do you not know how to swing it? Do you just lash it to your belt for show?" She approaches him, ankles shaky in spite of her efforts. "Is your back too frail to carry a warrior's suit of armor?"

[wilder]

Trying on people's nerves was a good way to put it. Even if she was much taller than him, he seemed less than fazed by her Warrior Persona. He simply looked up at her.

"Sure, my sword arm and back work," Maybe less so than usual, but he wasn't about to voice that. "Buuut you sure it'd do much good? Size of some of those demons out there, I feel like all my sword's gonna do is give them a paper-cut."

[telaari]

"Some good is better than none," she says as she stops before him. "If you think that resisting them is a worthless cause, by all means go. Throw your sword aside and run."

She leans in close, lowering her voice so only he can hear her. "But if you do that, the Legion will pursue you until you can run no longer. You have seen me, you know my name and who I serve. They will run you down, capture you, torture you, and force you to tell them who all has seen this Draenei Vindicator. And for the trouble you will have put him through, the Deceiver will wrench your soul from your body and banish it to a plane of endless torment."

She straightens, eyes hardened and jaw set. There isn't a word of it that she doesn't mean, even as ridiculous as it might sound. "Defeat is merely a probability, should you fight beside us. If you run, your damnation is a certainty."

[kingdomofsaints]

...Eh, they knew more than she did. They has to start from somewhere! That is a pretty shiny sword, if anything. Hopefully he wouldn't staring swinging it around to behead people.

"You said I was a... Priest, yes?" She's been trying to channel the whole Shadow thing, but when your teacher is trying to tell you to attack him and she's stubbornly trying not to, there wasn't much progress. She tried to blast a few trees. Nothing really evoked anger, mostly just regret.

Anyway! "The Light and the Shadows... do they both rely strongly on emotion, or is there another way to train using them?"

[seesbosscrotch]

No one would be beheaded! They would just be severely injured in duels at worst!

"Most of the priests I knew... were not really emotional in the sense that they needed to be. In the midst of battle, emotion tends to run high, after all, and if you're pumping as much shadow energy into something as you can in the hopes that it will die, you've usually got some feeling behind it.

"But that wasn't necessarily connected to the power they were using. When it comes down to it, channeling the Light and wielding the Shadow are matters of willpower. With practice and determination, you don't need to feel to do, you just do because you know you can."

[kingdomofsaints]

...Right.

That is a problem, and yet, a relief. Willpower- she can do that. Eventually, she can. "I see. That sounds more simple than I thought it would... or is it?"

Willpower is such a subjective word. Determination? For what? 'Because you know you can'- do what? For what purpose? To wipe out the demons, then. But what about the other Flights?

She'll... settle that in the situations that call for it. "So, if I believe I could become better... with time, is it bound to happen?"

[seesbosscrotch]

"You need practice, of course! Preferably in actual combat conditions. Not necessarily life-threatening, but you'll find your skills increase the more you use your abilities."

He did wish he could train her more effectively than that, but all his magic came through the Sunwell -- quite a different beast.

"If you choose to work on your holy magics, though, I think we can arrange something here. After all, if we're going to be training..."

Carolina is regretting this decision already (open to thread-crashing!!)

[guerriera]

One of the few things anyone learned in the Redsworn once they had been settled for a few days was that Carolina needed no inspiration or prompting to train.

Career military, UNSC affiliation or otherwise, if she wasn't found asking questions about the Legion, examining maps of key regions of interest to the Red Dragonflight in Azeroth or prowling the Sanctum like one of Mar's mythical reaver-bears, she was training. She hadn't found a weapon to replace her guns yet in a way she felt comfortable, something that left her uneasy, but she had seen no need to let her CQC skills slip. The dragons charged with care of the armory had already replaced one of the test training dummies, and had found it beneficial to have any healers practice shielding on the second they'd set up for her.

That Vas AND Mar were making something of a racket today hadn't been missed, however, and eventually Carolina took a break from her own workout to meander over and eye the training sessions in progress.

[telaari]

Carolina is a bit of an enigma, one that Vas hasn't allowed herself to try to solve. She walks like a soldier, talks like a soldier, and dresses like a soldier - albeit one from a very different world than she's ever encountered. Maybe it's because she can't recall a time she's seen the human out of her armor, but she has that bit of Fin-ness to her; that comfort in one's skin even when covered head-to-toe in full plate.

And honestly, it's more than a bit intimidating that she seems that way. Vas unconsciously stands a bit straighter, stands at attention, even though there's no possible way that Carolina could outrank her.

"Agent," she says, lowering her horns in greeting. "I do not believe that you have... introduced me to the ways your people fight. Perhaps you might teach me?"

[guerriera]

Carolina's armor is a defense against the world. It's fortunate she lacks her helmet - that would truly have hidden her from sight, and not necessarily for the better. Nonetheless, if it walks like a duck.. Well, she may not rank Vas on the draenei's home plane but Carolina is used to leading a squad. To being top tier. (To say she's struggled with being less than the best would be an understatement.)

"Vindicator Vastania," she replies, her nod short, before green eyes flickered to the few redsworn warming up and working out under the blood elf paladin's eye. Maybe she's disappointed, maybe she's not, but she's not seeing anything particularly outstanding in their routines. Or perhaps she's just used to the grueling schedule she set herself in the Project.

Vas' question pulls her attention round, however. "My 'people' don't have any one way of fighting," she says, carefully, warily, forcing the ridgedness out of her stance. "Everyone gets the same basic training, but after that, different paths to follow. You get the Helljumpers -- our ODSTs. The regulars, and specialists. Same as any army."

And SPARTANS. But Vas doesn't need to hear about them. "You need a bit of everything to face the war we're dealing with."

[telaari]

The whole of what Carolina says makes sense, even if it leaves her wondering what an odii estii does. Probably something unpleasant, if they're called 'Helljumpers'.

"Yes, variety is important - but I don't believe I've seen you take up a sword or cast a spell. And this," she indicates her bright blue armor, "is not subtle, like what rangari wear." She touches her chin in thought, tilting her head. "You wear plate, yes? Do you not carry heavy weaponry into battle?"

Demons of the Legion Subthreads

[telaari]

"If you are to fight them, you shall need to know the names of your enemies. In time, you shall also come to know their faces and their deeds."

[OOC: to keep infodumping to a minimum, I'll add subthreads periodically over the next few days. Feel free to ask questions ICly, but please respond to the appropriate subthread.]

IMPS

[telaari]

"Where there is Fel fire, there are imps. Some of you may have already fought them back in the forest."

Vas leans back on one leg. "Imps are fire sprites empowered by demon magic. They are also the most fragile of the Legion's agents. A single imp is hardly a match even for those not trained to fight.

"But several imps are a problem, and a single imp may become several imps in a matter of seconds. As Fel flames spread, more imps rise. They are not particularly cunning, but they understand strength in numbers. Even the most powerful warriors may be overwhelmed by them when they form swarms. All demons must be killed quickly, but imps in particular must be dealt with before they swarm."

FELGUARD

[telaari]

Vas paws at the ground idly with one hoof. "The Mo'arg, as they call themselves - they are the backbone of the Legion. I know for certain that some of you have seen a Felguard.

"The Felguard is but one role the Mo'arg fill within the Legion. They and their weaker Gan'arg kin design the war engines that have devastated so many worlds. I would not call them cunning, but they are intelligent. And their machines do precisely what the Legion requires them to do."

She folds her arms across her chest. "But there are many more Mo'arg who are not quite so smart, but strong. These ones, the ones called Felguards, take up arms and act as the footsoldiers of the Legion. They are easily as strong as five men, and they may easily destroy an inexperienced warrior in hand-to-hand combat. But they rarely take up bows and slings - stay distant, where the Felguard cannot reach you, and you will have the upper hand."

SUCCUBI & DREADLORDS

[telaari]

As she finds familiar ground, Vas begins to relax her guard. She lowers her voice slightly; she can still be heard, but there's no need to shout right now.

"The Legion is not composed entirely of simple-minded brutes. The Sayyad and the Nathrezim are the most clever, the most insidious of demons. In the Common tongue, they are known as Succubi and Dreadlords. Both of them are skilled in magic and in bending minds to their will.

"Though the Dreadlord and the Succubus both use fel magic to play tricks with the mind, their methods are... different. The Succubus manipulates her victims by seducing them. Her spell forces those caught in it to love and trust her, so that she may draw information from them at her leisure. Very few people have the will to break a succubus' spell.

"The Dreadlord uses doubt instead of trust. He may assume the role of an advisor, but his advice is always poisonous. With a few words, he can turn friends against one another. He spreads doubt and fear through the ranks of his foes, and by doing so, he breaks them. They are the Legion's officers, skilled in both tactics and in magical combat."

[wilder]

Zelos really is listening intently and quietly to the lecture, he is! Maybe he's not writing it down, but he'll remember this stuff later. But for the most part, he's been much quieter than he was at the beginning.

Except for this part right here. Anyone sitting near him of Zelos talking to himself. Oh who are we kidding, with his voice it's probably half the group at least.

"Seriously? They just use spells to seduce people?" He rolls his eyes. "Tch, lame. Where's the fun in that?"

Way to be disappointing, legendary creatures of sexy. You are a dishonor on promiscuous people everywhere.

[seesbosscrotch]

"They do the other way too," Mar said, and if this were a framed shot he would have leaned in to say it. "But it's surprisingly ineffective in the middle of a pitched battle. No warlock wants their minion luring the enemy warrior behind the lumber mill for half an hour in the middle of a pitched conflict for control of the precious, precious wood."

[wilder]

He snorts. "Please. Do it right and the precious, precious wood? Won't be the wood that soldier cares about anymore."

And then curiously as if he did not just imply something a second ago.

"What's a warlock?

PIT LORDS

[telaari]

Now she's really - what's the human phrase, on a spin? On a roll? It doesn't matter. The lessons instilled by Thoiir are all coming back to her in full force. If only he could see her now, lecturing these Redsworn like a class of Vindicator candidates.

"The Annihilan," she starts, unable to prevent herself from sneering, "the so-called 'Pit Lords' are the military champions of the Legion. They are head and horns above any felguard in battle. You will know them on sight, for they have eight limbs - four legs, two arms, and two wings; a great scaly tail; and terrible tusks. The smallest among them are as big as the biggest draft horses, and they wield swords and axes with blades that are as long as a man is tall. Most are not cunning, but all can cut down a squad with one blow.

"I have yet to hear of a Pit Lord that was bested in single combat. They are difficult for even the most skilled armies to put down."

[bloodpainter]

"I saw one of those."

Nepeta's eyes as she remembers the Pit Lord have the expression of a warrior that's seen an enemy they know they can't beat. There's fear in them, but a determination to survive and a thoughtfulness that shows she's already trying to figure out weaknesses or at least ways to escape.

"We'd just managed to get the dragon in when it came out of the forest. I knew right away I didn't want to fight it, I think I've only efur seen one or two things stronger than it, and our whole team was together when we fought things like that. The dragons had the advantage, though. Those wings don't seem strong enough fur it to fly."

[telaari]

This is the first time she's seen Nepeta up close, but she's no less strange here than from a distance. Though she's hardly one to judge, the troll's grey skin and bright green eyes are oddly unnerving even when she's proven to be completely harmless. Too reminiscent of the Legion, she supposes.

"N...no, they cannot fly, even if they tried. It is some small mercy, I suppose," she says. "You were lucky to have seen one and escaped unscathed."

MAN'ARI EREDAR

[telaari]

And in a moment, all her inner fire is gone. She sighs heavily, averting her eyes. "And then there are the Eredar."

"The Eredar... they sit at the hand of the demon-titan Sargeras. They are the commanders of the Legion. They..." she says, her voice faltering. She feels a cold not in the pit of her stomach. What if they can't see that she's not one of them? What if they turn from her?

It's too late. She's already begun. If she stops now, they'll never listen to her again.

"You will know an Eredar should you see one. They hail from the world of Argus, a world lost when Sargeras offered them knowledge and power. Two-thirds of the Eredar joined him that day. The ones who did not join fled Argus, and they have been chased across countless worlds for their defiance. They called themselves the Exiled Ones."

Vastania looks up at the rest of her Flight. "In Eredun, the word for 'Exiled One' is 'Draenei.'"

[seesbosscrotch]

Mar casually stepped in front of Vas as she wound down, his voice cheerful and his gaze absolute steel that dared anyone to challenge him. "Before you go feeling any of the prejudice the Vindicator is afraid you will, I should add, since she doesn't, that since coming to Azeroth, the draenei people have been both relentless foes of the Legion and remarkable friends to those of us born on the world. They have stood not only against their ancient cousins, but against any number of other threats that have reared their ugly heads."

He clenched one fist as his side, then lifted it. "I have my power today because of them. Their Prophet saved the Sin'dorei when he could have justifiably damned them. Don't doubt her, or them, because of who they have the misfortune to be related to."

That speech was really more for Vastania's sake than anyone else's, but he'd defend his words to his dying breath if anyone challenged him on them.