#bluecollarednoble

[jadednoble-blog]

i want a man to hold me like clive holds fernand

((same.))

[gradiivus]

Rejoin [Zeke & Clive]

continued from here @bluecollarednoble

      The mountainous terrain of the Rigelian countryside was conducive to the natural formation of caves and tunnels, some appearing after quakes, others left behind by the long-cooled lava that erupted from the earth around the dragon crater. Many had been discovered and conquered years ago, expanded into the depths of the range, and used as hideouts and stores for bandits until the shifting of the earth sealed off an entrance. Those trapped inside became the Terrors and specters that now roamed the tunnels, or so the stories went, and few dared venture into caves reopened.       Except a small army in need of supplies. In a foreign country, there was no shame in stealing from the dead, and the former hideouts were often bountiful with abandoned silver. Zeke was not entirely unfamiliar with the stories, even though Rigel had been his home for a little under a year, but kept his reservations to himself. Alm led the Deliverance, and if he felt they could make use of the treasure within, then Zeke would follow unquestioningly. It was what Rudolf had instructed, after all. Not to mention he was Rigelian, and though the Deliverance had welcomed him, it did not stop others from throwing him suspicious glances. They had no reason to trust him - he had turned against his last commander and hardly considered himself worthy of it anyway - and so he kept to himself, bringing up the rear as they explored the tunnels.       Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his companion - Clive, another veteran soldier and the former Deliverance leader, if he remembered correctly - stop to look up at the ceiling, and so instinctively, he did so as well. Dust and loose pebbles drifted in a cloud down from a new crack above their heads, speckling his cheeks and eyelashes as he blinked to keep it from his eyes. Then his body was in motion before his head had a chance to think.       He made a dash for the rest of the group, but a strong grip on his upper arm dragged him backwards the instant huge boulders and broken stalactites dropped from the ceiling. He half-caught himself with his elbow as he landed alongside Clive, heart beating in his ears and unable to do anything but watch as the dust settled, staring at the part of the ceiling that had collapsed right where he had been standing just seconds prior. Had it not been for Clive’s quick reflexes… he exhaled slowly through his nose and closed his eyes. He was lucky.       An uneasy silence followed as the rocks settled, and not even the sound of shouting broke through from the other side. Had everyone managed to get out of the way in time? He could only hope.       “Yes… I believe so.” After pushing himself up to sit and take stock of himself - covered in dirt, but overall unharmed - he rose to his feet and offered his hand to Clive. “I owe you, my friend. That was far too close.”

[draconiium]

( sulfur and steel ) ; && clive

bluecollarednoble:

It always filled Clive with a great deal of sadness and grief whenever he saw the effects of war upon the innocent establishments and citizens. Villages caught in the crossfires did not deserve this kind of destruction and annihilation, no matter what side they were on. All in this town were victim, and Clive’s heart twisted in anguish as he slowly moved through the town upon his horse, the animal snorting softly and keeping her head low.

His hands gripped the reigns so tight his knuckles turned white, and his face remained emotionless, jaw tightened and eyes level. The smell of burnt fire and flesh itched at his nose and sent a wave of nausea in his stomach. Despite the horrors of war he had seen, he still could not move past the disgusting smells of carnage and gore.

However it was but a necessary process as part of the Deliverance…offer aid whenever possible, and in this case, it was to check for survivors. Clive doubted anyone could have survived, either killed in the fire or struck down by the bandits, but he remained hopeful, a little spark within him.

Sign of movement caught his attention, and the man lifted his head, snapping to life when he believed he saw a mount. His eyes widened, and he gave his horse a little kick, the animal picking up speed and trotting towards where he directed.

Clive moved carefully, his lance at his side and his body low to his horse. Was this someone searching the wreckage for loot? Or a survivor? Or someone offering aid…?

They rounded the corner, and he paused at the sight of someone, his eyes narrowing.

“Hello?”

this time, he had arrived too late. his lance had been useless against flames, his years of training pathetic in the face of destruction already laid bare on another innocent village. by the time he had managed to track the bandit lord through the outrealm gate, the ruthless outlaw had already struck his next victim. the burn of fury seethes deep in his chest, feeds the fervor of his continued search for survivors, even after more than an hour’s thorough combing had turned up only bodies and more bodies.

they didn’t deserve this. not only because they were innocent citizens, but they hadn’t even been citizens of the right place. the taliver bandits of northern bern were said to be the most cunning, the most methodical, the most brutal in all of elibe — they should have known they would find a way to terrorize more than simply their rugged mountain range, one day. 

after all, if these outrealm gates have been used as a way to bridge lands vastly different, then they could be equally used to do vicious evil. 

he’s searching another ransacked house, picking his way through the overturned shelves and splintered chairs. his calls receive no answer, and his throat is now hoarse. when he makes his way to the back, he finds the mangled body of an elderly man collapsed over a large urn, blood still fresh and thick with the smell of iron puddling on the floor. he closes his eyes, jaw tight. 

a high, drawn-out screee from outside snaps him to attention — rubley’s warning call! pulse pounding anew, he pivots on his heel and runs through the disheveled house — have the bandits come back for more?? 

no, instead he finds his mount, reared up high on his hind legs, neck extended, spines lifted, wings flared — a full intimidation display — at an unfamiliar man. a knight, by the cursory glance he gets as he rushes forward to grab for the reins before damage can be done; the man is armed, after all. ❝ rubley, down! ❞ the firm command, accompanied by a tight hold at the base of the reins that allows no slack, gives a signal that the reptile understands. with a few, still-aggressive sounds, he settles down, folding his wings in slightly, though he watches the horseman with wary, golden eyes.

           ❝ sorry, ❞ he says to the man. ❝ you spooked him. ❞

                             he maintains a grip on his lance, just in case the knight                              doesn’t turn out to be friendly. 

[jadednoble-blog]

me

<3

[wisdomxseeker]

Ü

“Clive,

Do all rich folk fill their meat drawers to the brim with steak, or is it just you?

Please eat a vegetable.

Kliff”

[freckled-archer-blog]

Healing Trouble

@bluecollarednoble

A soft, pained noise of exhaustion left the commander’s lips, feeling as if the life had been crushed out of him. Slowly, he was roused from sleep, only from the biting, bitter pain that assaulted him and felt as if his flesh was being torn to bits over and over. His eyes snapped open with a gasp, sweat beading down his face as he looked around, his mind hazy and his gaze blurry.

When he finally came to and did not pass out right away, Clive finally seemed to gauge where he had ended up. Some sort of infirmary, he guessed, from the flashes of white and the medical supplies in the corner of his vision. He wheezed after a moment, wincing as he breathed, a hand immediately moving to the bandages under the cotton tunic he wore.

What the hell happened…? He didn’t remember anything…there was a battle…did he get hit? From the throb, he assumed as much…but where was he? This didn’t look like the Deliverance’s Infirmary…

Clive’s head fell back, and he looked around, startling when he noticed that he was not indeed alone. His gaze fell to the young girl, and he swallowed.

“…where…am I?”

Dorothy was far from being a proper cleric, or a cleric at all, and after days of traveling along with the Sisters of Mila, as she called them herself, as their personal bodyguard (or at least, one of them), she couldn’t help but miss the land back at her home, in Elibe... but after not finding a way to go back, going back to some sort of similar life than she had for Saint Elimine... well, she had to comply.

She had decided to take a look around the infirmary, some sort of soldiers from Zofia were found injured in battle, and the sisters took them in and healed their wounds. It just so happened that she was also wearing bandages on her left arm, due to previous encounters with ‘Terrors’, as the sisters called them themselves.

A voice woke her up from the silence in her head, remembering all of this. “He’s awake...” she muttered, the people around the infirmary, the rest of the soldiers, were still resting. She crouched to meet the man’s gaze, while his injuries were not visible, she knew they were there, somewhere. “Mister knight,” she spoke, with a little worry. “Are you okay?”

She ran a hand through her hair, turning back to the entrance of the infirmary... “Should I call the medics? They’re asleep...” and then she turned to the man, yet again. “You’re in Southern Zofia, we found you a little distance away from a cave entrance... It’s been awfully dangerous as of late.”