10-31-2015, 07:49 AM
Since the murder of the commander, the city had become an even more uncomfortable place, if such a thing was even possible.
In her old world, Abigail Reckner had been a sergeant, so it was only with a soft chuckle that she had accepted a role as a noncommissioned officer in the Darkshire garrison. Part of her knew that the reason behind the decision was solely because she had survived the drow attack. In fact, she was one of only a handful of people in Darkshire who knew how the skeletal guardians had tuned against the city they had vowed to protect. If she hadn’t been a half-competent soldier and had the experience needed to lead a squad, she knew she would have been assigned to one of the ‘scouting parties’ like the other survivors from her garrison.
So she became, for the second time in her life, ‘Sergeant Abigail Reckner,’ although the outfit and insignia she wore were a radical departure from her modern home. After a few days, she realized she kind of missed all the chevrons.’
On the afternoon after the murder of Commander Skendor, Abigail found herself standing in a barricade outside Town Hall. While she had escaped assignment to a scouting squad, that didn’t mean she had any of the easy jobs. Her superior—a smug lieutenant who’d been around for years—plucked her from garrison duty to have her handle ‘riot control.’ Vis a vie, her and the fifteen men and women under her command were the only defense for the central hub of Darkshire’s government. If the disgruntled citizens turned into rioters, her soldiers and she would be crushed against the walls of the building at their backs.
“Clear a path!” The strong, booming voice tore clear through the rabble of conversation. As Abigail watched, the disorganized group of citizens before her gradually parted down the middle to grant a clear path for a heavily muscled man dressed in body armor and carrying a spear in his right hand. The bearded man wore a breastplate pulled straight from a mythology book, and instead of pants, he wore what seemed to be stripes of lacquered leather as some sort of loose armor. Although she couldn’t see exactly, it was obvious that he had a large shield strapped onto his back.
When he was within five feet, Abigail held out a hand. “I apologize, Citizen, but Town Hall is off limits.”
“On whose orders?” Atelos demanded. After yelling the question, he glanced around to see that most eyes were on his exchange with the sergeant.
“Town Guard.”
“Lies!” Atelos shouted. “I am Atelos, Champion of Darkshire, Conqueror of Silent Hill, and Slayer of the Tarrasque. I come straight from the home of the grieving Dobson Skendor to reveal this fraud to the citizens of Darkshire.” At that, the people began to murmur around the Spartan—word spread quickly among the loose horde of confused men and women. “He knows that even as we speak, the supposed law makers of Darkshire are giving shelter to the people responsible for killing the good and honest Commander Skendor.”
“I need you to step down right now,” the woman barked, her hand falling to the hilt of her sword. Atelos caught the subtle motion and smiled. He was never a brilliant strategist, but he was amused at how readily everyone was to serve their part in the play that Dobson and Shang had devised.
“Enough is enough!” Atelos roared, projecting his voice across the square that lay before Town Hall. “It’s time we take back our city from these murderers!” With a swift motion, the Spartan drove his fist into the woman’s jaw, actually lifting her up off her feet and splaying her backwards into her soldiers. The guards, nervous as they were, drew their weapons, but before they could do anything, the mob behind Atelos surged forward, crashing against them in a giant wave of humanity.
In her old world, Abigail Reckner had been a sergeant, so it was only with a soft chuckle that she had accepted a role as a noncommissioned officer in the Darkshire garrison. Part of her knew that the reason behind the decision was solely because she had survived the drow attack. In fact, she was one of only a handful of people in Darkshire who knew how the skeletal guardians had tuned against the city they had vowed to protect. If she hadn’t been a half-competent soldier and had the experience needed to lead a squad, she knew she would have been assigned to one of the ‘scouting parties’ like the other survivors from her garrison.
So she became, for the second time in her life, ‘Sergeant Abigail Reckner,’ although the outfit and insignia she wore were a radical departure from her modern home. After a few days, she realized she kind of missed all the chevrons.’
On the afternoon after the murder of Commander Skendor, Abigail found herself standing in a barricade outside Town Hall. While she had escaped assignment to a scouting squad, that didn’t mean she had any of the easy jobs. Her superior—a smug lieutenant who’d been around for years—plucked her from garrison duty to have her handle ‘riot control.’ Vis a vie, her and the fifteen men and women under her command were the only defense for the central hub of Darkshire’s government. If the disgruntled citizens turned into rioters, her soldiers and she would be crushed against the walls of the building at their backs.
“Clear a path!” The strong, booming voice tore clear through the rabble of conversation. As Abigail watched, the disorganized group of citizens before her gradually parted down the middle to grant a clear path for a heavily muscled man dressed in body armor and carrying a spear in his right hand. The bearded man wore a breastplate pulled straight from a mythology book, and instead of pants, he wore what seemed to be stripes of lacquered leather as some sort of loose armor. Although she couldn’t see exactly, it was obvious that he had a large shield strapped onto his back.
When he was within five feet, Abigail held out a hand. “I apologize, Citizen, but Town Hall is off limits.”
***
Atelos sneered at the female soldier before him. If not for the circumstances, he would have probably found her an interesting specimen. She was tall and curvy, and a quick glance showed the physique of someone who spent a little time at the gym. While she had some roughness to her features and the haircut of a boy, there was still something there that made her appealing.“On whose orders?” Atelos demanded. After yelling the question, he glanced around to see that most eyes were on his exchange with the sergeant.
“Town Guard.”
“Lies!” Atelos shouted. “I am Atelos, Champion of Darkshire, Conqueror of Silent Hill, and Slayer of the Tarrasque. I come straight from the home of the grieving Dobson Skendor to reveal this fraud to the citizens of Darkshire.” At that, the people began to murmur around the Spartan—word spread quickly among the loose horde of confused men and women. “He knows that even as we speak, the supposed law makers of Darkshire are giving shelter to the people responsible for killing the good and honest Commander Skendor.”
“I need you to step down right now,” the woman barked, her hand falling to the hilt of her sword. Atelos caught the subtle motion and smiled. He was never a brilliant strategist, but he was amused at how readily everyone was to serve their part in the play that Dobson and Shang had devised.
“Enough is enough!” Atelos roared, projecting his voice across the square that lay before Town Hall. “It’s time we take back our city from these murderers!” With a swift motion, the Spartan drove his fist into the woman’s jaw, actually lifting her up off her feet and splaying her backwards into her soldiers. The guards, nervous as they were, drew their weapons, but before they could do anything, the mob behind Atelos surged forward, crashing against them in a giant wave of humanity.
![[Image: Shang.jpg]](http://www.omniverse-rpg.com/images/Shang.jpg)